Ice Warm
by super manako sohma
Summary: If you've read Fire, you know this is a bunch of Stylish oneshots centered around a subject of my choice. It's gonna be fluffy as best as I make it. Again, romance or friendship? You decide.
1. Balloons

Mana here. Welcome to the beginning of this new Stylish series! If you've read Fire before, this will pretty much be the same; oneshots, and what not. And then you're all "aww we want change!" It's kuu though, since I'm gonna try my best to make this series a lil more Kyle-centric than the last one. If you're new here, welcome! And enjoy.

This fic, I'm basing it on one of my greatest fears. And who better to share the same phobia as me than Kyle? I'm seriously, I'm really scared of balloons. Last week there was this huge ass balloon by my locker that looked like it had been blown upon breaking point and then suddenly it just popped and I was all "ZOMGJESUSCHRIST" It was scary.

Balloons

Kyle was scared of a lot of things. Cartman's crazy schemes, Ike getting hurt, being ugly, Peru, you name it. But what was particularly scary was balloons.

Every year when it was one of the girls' birthdays, their friends would bring them a bunch of balloons that would sit in the class for the rest of the day. It made Kyle nervous; each one of those balloons was a land mine that could to off with just a simple prick. He'd grow anxious when so much as an un-blown piece of Mylar was within 20 feet of his radius; balloons popped and the sound was so startling it made him jump every time.

Despite his fears, he tried his best to keep a stern composure when in the presence of those colorful blown up spheres. He didn't want anyone to find out his irrational fear thinking he was a pussy or worse, use it against him.

On a chilly December day, Cartman, Stan, Kyle and Kenny stood at the bus stop as they did every morning. As usual on a day in December, Cartman would complain about Kyle's being Jewish.

"Goddammit Kahl," he huffed, "now, I can't even say 'Merry Christmas' at school or else I'll get suspended."

"It's not my fault!" Kyle countered, "I don't know what the big deal is, I don't care if someone tells me 'Merry Christmas!'"

"Stop lying, you fucking Jew rat."

"I'm not lying!"

But Cartman didn't let it go. That day he decided to stick it to the Jew good. Scare the crap out of him, so he thought of the most perfect way possible.

"Hey Stan," he called to the black-haired boy, "c'mere."

Stan, confused, walked over.

"Let's play a joke on Kyle."

"Cartman, I'm not gonna do anything to hurt Kyle."

"No, no, it's not gonna hurt him. In fact, he'll probably find it sweet."

"Ok…depends. What do you have in mind?"

Cartman whispered his plans to Stan. Stan's face drew a smile.

"That does sound pretty sweet, actually. Let's do it!"

"Killer."

Later that day, Kyle and Stan were walking down the halls toward the cafeteria. Stan and Cartman had their plan set, and Stan was doing his part well. This was going to be epic.

"I can't believe Craig killed Kenny," Kyle said.

"Dude! Craig's such a douche."

"Yeah! I mean, all Kenny did was talk about Craig's mom's cat and then he fucking took Garrison's gun from his desk and shot him."

"Seriously, he needs to chill."

Stan spotted Cartman from behind him and nodded.

"Hm?" Kyle asked.

Suddenly a loud shot filled the air. Stan hit the floor with a crashing thud and Kyle screamed bloody murder.

"STAN!!"

Stan remained motionless.

"Goddammit!" He picked up Stan's limp body frantically and turned it over, but to his surprise, Stan's face was smiling, trying to suppress laughter.

"What the hell?"

Cartman entered the scene with a huge smirk on his face and shredded red Mylar in his hands. Kyle eyed the rubber and quickly turned red; it was a balloon Cartman had popped behind them and Stan purposely fell to add fear. It was just a trick. A trick that had gotten the better of him.

"Oh my God!" Cartman roared with laughter, "you fucking screamed like a girl, Jewboy!"

Stan then rose from the linoleum and joined Cartman in the laughter.

"Haha, seriously Kyle, you should have heard yourself! I'm surprised I didn't go deaf, since I was standing right next to you!"

But Kyle however didn't partake in his friends' laughter of a well thought out prank. He instead grew teary and began shaking.

"THAT'S NOT FUNNY YOU GUYS!"

And he ran off, leaving Stan and Cartman blinking dumbly in his dust. Stan pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration.

"Goddammit Cartman you said it wouldn't hurt him!"

"He's not bleeding is he?" He asked sarcastically.

"You fucking suck so hard!"

Stan abandoned Cartman in the halls to look for Kyle. The Jew was pretty good at disappearing; Stan checked the usual places Kyle would be when he needed a place to hide but still no sign of him.

After much searching, he finally spotted him sitting against a large oak, face buried in his knees.

_Crap,_ Stan thought.

"H-hey, Kyle?" He knelt down next to him at the tree and patted his back. Kyle wriggled away from his touch.

"Why'd you do it Stan?" He said shakily, "that seriously wasn't funny."

"Sorry dude, Cartman was the one who suggested it."

"And since when do you listen to Cartman?"

Stan sighed. He spotted a particular blade of grass in front of him and began playing with it with his finger.

"Well, I dunno, we thought you'd like it."

"Well I didn't," Kyle shifted upward.

"Why not?"

Kyle didn't want to tell Stan about his real reason for not approving of their little "joke." He didn't want to share his weakness, not even with his best friend. It was something that was personal.

"Did you think I was really shot, Kyle?"

Kyle blinked, but decided to play on to that thought.

"How do you think you'd feel if you best friend was suddenly shot and he dropped dead right beside you? Do you think that's funny, Stan?"

"Nah, guess not. But if some cop did think I was shot, he'd think Cartman was the one who killed me and the he'd shoot him."

"That would be pretty sweet," Kyle lit up. Stan laughed with him and patted him on the back.

"There ya go," he said, "ready to go back now?"

The two left the playground and went back to the cafeteria and sat down at their usual table. Everything was going well until Bebe decided to have her little birthday celebration among the tight group of girls.

Kyle paled when he saw the bundle of colorful balloons sitting beside her. He eyed them suspiciously; he knew it wouldn't pop unless something poked it, and since they were floating high up above everyone, he doubted they would pop any time soon.

That is, until a green one suddenly burst with a loud bang. The girls screamed and so did Kyle, much to his embarrassment.

"Whoa dude," Stan said once Kyle had recovered, "you ok?"

"Y-yeah," Kyle pulled himself together.

Then Stan moved in closer, whispering to the Jew, "you're scared of balloons, aren't you?"

Kyle blushed. "How'd you find out?"

"Oh, I've noticed you for quite some time now," he winked.

Then he turned to Cartman, who was holding a slingshot loaded with a thumbtack aimed towards the girls' table.

"Hey fatass, not cool," he grabbed the slingshot from him before he could fire another tack, "you shouldn't pop a girl's balloon when it's her birthday."

"Yeah," the rest of the boys' table joined Stan.

"That's just weak," Clyde said.

"What an asshole," Token added.

"Ay! What is this?" Cartman asked, "I thought we agreed that girls are lame!"

"That doesn't give you any right to be mean to them, though," Craig said, "you should just get out of the lunchroom. No one here wants you anyway."

"Yeah!" The rest of the table interjected.

Cartman tried to make a comeback to defend himself but it didn't work. Eventually he gave up, screwed those guys, and went home.

Stan nudged Kyle with his knee under the table once everything settled down.

"All better?" He whispered.

"Dude that was sweet, thanks."

Then he took a bite out of his peanut butter and jelly sandwich, enjoying it without the threat of a popping balloon interrupting its awesome deliciousness.

XX

I made Bebe have a December birthday…I've always felt she was a December baby, just like me. Which is odd, because that's the only connection I feel to her, and it probably isn't real.

Well, I'm finished with the first chapter, tell me how it went, ok?


	2. Money

Mana here. Sorry, sorry, I haven't been writing as much =P so many things going on this week…college acceptance letters, demanding school assignments, scholarship applications, orchestra festivals…ARGH!! Lol…but this one, I've been writing for quite a while and it's kinda long, which should make up for my temporary leave XD Then…my sister helped me write a little of it because I got stuck. Writing Kyle-centric stuff is hard! Lol Stan centric is so easy, since I relate to him a lot more, but Kyle…eep. I don't think I have anything in common with him. He's Jewish, I'm Catholic. He's firey, I'm watery. His immune system's weak, mine's made of steel. I guess we're both straight-A students =/ And we don't really _like_ anyone (EXCEPT FOR STAN HAHAHAHA!) Ah well…I'll do my best in writing. Please enjoy :3

Money

It wasn't correct to say that Kyle was made of money. He wasn't born rich like the children of wealthy parents. In fact, his parents didn't even start out rich. Gerald worked hard to go to law school, which took him quite a while before he finally graduated. And a few years after Kyle was born, he managed to secure a position as prosecutor at a circuit court in South Park.

Sheila was currently unemployed, but she earned her money by suing things she found harmful to society. Her strong personality and intimidating stance scared the special interest groups to play for her and eventually pay retribution in court.

And because of his parents' successes, Kyle had been blessed with all the necessities of a child and a little more on the side.

That is, until his father was laid off the next day.

"Why would they fire dad?" Kyle frantically asked Sheila that morning during breakfast. "I thought he was doing a good job!"

"Well sweetie with all that's going on in the economy, there's lots of corruption, and since your father plays against the big corporations, they paid judges and politicians to fire anybody that would threaten their power."

Kyle slammed his fist on the kitchen table.

"That's weak!"

His mother shrugged.

"That's how corruption works, bubbi. I don't like it but it's not going away any time soon."

"Crap, what are we gonna do about money?" Kyle asked.

"We've a little money saved up in the bank in case something like this happens."

"Yeah, but how long will that last? We'll run out eventually."

"We'll have to sacrifice a few things. But think of the positives, Kyle. Now you get free lunch at school."

Normally, this would be a good thing for any kid. Free education along with a free lunch? Really, how awesome is that? Not awesome for Kyle, apparently.

"OH MY GOD THE JEW'S GETTING FREE LUNCH?" Cartman guffawed loudly when Kyle flashed his "free lunch" card in the lunch line.

"Fuck off," Kyle said, taking the tray of food.

"Oh my God, are you Jews seriously that cheap?" Cartman wiped away a mirth-induced tear.

"Look, my dad lost his job yesterday," Kyle said, eyes closed, "so we're trying to save money."

"No way!" Stan turned to Kyle, "that sucks!"

"Yeah, it does."

"Well…if you like I can buy you lunch sometimes."

Kyle thought the offer was sweet of him but he shook his head.

"I don't want you giving me money, Stan. Just spend it on yourself."

After having followed the group to their lunch table, he observed his friends' lunches, how very plentiful they were compared to his weak ham and tasteless green beans. He couldn't really eat the ham, so he nibbled on a bean, trying to make it last.

"It's ok, man," Kenny put a hand to Kyle's shoulder, "my dad's unemployed, but we're fine."

Kyle held back tears, trying not to imagine his family devolve into the McCormicks. He wasn't patronizing Kenny; Kyle thought Kenny was pretty cool, and his family can be nice sometimes. He just didn't want _his_ family to be like that, constantly fighting about spending the money, just like the McCormick couple.

The rest of the school day wasn't any better. Cartman announced to the class of the Broflovskis' financial situation, and although most kids didn't care, it made him a little more insecure.

The next day was just as bad; Kyle didn't want to use his free lunch card, so instead he brought a lunch from home.

"Oh man, look what Kahl brought for lunch!" Cartman took out the contents of Kyle's paper sack. It was a piece of toast and an apple from the backyard.

Cartman laughed harder.

"What the hell? You don't even have a Capri Sun with this!"

Kyle sighed and attempted to take his food back, but Cartman stopped him. "Wait, wait…do you see this?" he held up the apple in his chubby hand and cackled. "This apple has a hole in it! A _hole_! That means there's a bug in it!"

"Cartman, that's enough…" Stan started.

"There's a _bug_ in Kahl's apple!" he looked Kyle dead in the eye, a serious expression on his face. "Are _you_ going to eat this, Kahl? I mean, bugs carry a lot of germs, you know." He laughed.

"Give me back my apple, fatass!" Kyle snatched it back.

"Ew, Kahl's going to eat an apple with a bug in it! What a freak!" Cartman was having the time of his life.

Stan glared at him.

"Cartman, shut up!" he turned to Kyle, putting a hand on his shoulder, "You know, some apples at Whole Foods have holes in them, but people still buy them. You'll be fine, Kyle."

"Well… maybe I shouldn't eat it…" he said, but then his stomach gave an audible growl.

"No, you need to. Just eat around the hole," Stan said.

Kyle took a cautious bite out of the apple and Cartman gasped.

"Oh my god, Kahl, I think I just saw something move!"

Kyle gasped, causing himself to choke.

"Gotcha, you poor Jewish piece of crap!!!" Cartman laughed as Kyle coughed, face flushed and eyes growing teary.

Stan couldn't bear to see Kyle take crap from Cartman. He felt inside his pocket; there was about five dollars in ones that Sharon gave him for ice cream. He took out a dollar and dropped it in the vicinity of Kyle.

"Oh hey, a dollar," Kyle saw the currency beneath his feet and picked it up, "did anyone lose this?"

The group gave a 'no' in response, and Kyle shrugged.

"Ah well, finders keepers."

"Dude, go buy yourself a milk at least. The water fountains are disgusting." Stan made a face at the number of germs one could find in a school water fountain.

Kyle went to the lunch line to purchase a chocolate milk, and Stan smiled; he knew he could at least make his friend not suffer during lunch.

The next day, Kyle found a couple more dollars on the floor near his desk and kept them, since the owner decided not to claim them. By the end of the week, he had accumulated around twenty dollars.

"This is pretty sweet," he told Stan as he slipped a buck in a candy machine, "looks like things are starting to look up for me."

After school, Stan followed Kyle home; the Broflovskis were having the Marshes over for dinner and his parents told him he could come home with Kyle after school. The stayed upstairs in Kyle's room doing homework and playing video games.

When it was time to come down to eat, they were greeted to pretty much a feast. Jewish food along with American food decorated the table in vast portions, and Stan gaped at the sight.

_Holy crap,_ he thought, _this is like half their savings!_

Stan nibbled his food slowly; he figured that if he didn't eat as much, Sheila would save the rest for leftovers, providing at least four days of food for the family. He glared at his parents indulging themselves in, but they didn't pay attention to him. He looked then to Kyle, who had devoured his entire plate, and he couldn't blame him. It's been a while since Kyle had good food.

"Not hungry, Stan?" He asked as he finished stuffing a piece of cornbread into his mouth.

Stan shook his head.

"You want the rest?" He pushed his plate to Kyle, who took no time in clearing it.

After dinner, Randy and Sharon prepared to depart, but Stan was permitted to stay and sleepover.

"One sec," he told Kyle, "I just need to ask my dad something."

Kyle let Stan go, but then he went downstairs himself, to see if he could provide something good for them for dessert as they watch TV. He noticed Stan pulling Randy away to the hallway near the kitchen, as if acting discretely. Curious, Kyle wandered over to the two, however keeping himself hidden.

"Hey dad, can I have twenty dollars?" he heard Stan ask his father in hushed tones.

"What?" Randy raised an eyebrow, "didn't I just give you twenty yesterday?"

Stan looked to the ground.

"Uh…yeah, I accidentally lost it."

"Stanley, you can't just lose twenty dollars," Randy said, "that's a lot of money, you know. What do you even need it for? If you want something you can just ask me to buy it for you."

"I know," Stan said, still staring at the ground, "it's just…it comes in handy sometimes."

Randy sighed and felt his back pocket for his wallet.

"Ok, well as long as you don't lose this one…" he took out three fives and five ones and handed them to Stan, who beamed in response.

"Thanks dad, you're the best!"

Kyle went back to his room quickly, before Stan could realize he had left. Shortly after Stan came in and sat next to Kyle on his bed. Both sets of eyes were gazing distantly at the TV.

Kyle's mind however was on Stan's conversation with Randy and his recent acquisition of twenty dollars. It all seemed too convenient. Unless…

Kyle mentally smacked himself; he should have known that the abundance of loose currency for him in the past week was all too good to be true. He felt hurt, not only that he was taking his friend's money, but he had been spending every dollar he found that week. There was no way to return it any time soon.

"You ok?" Stan asked Kyle. He must have been spacing out for quite some time. He blinked and then looked at Stan, figuring he might as well bring it up.

"Dude, have you been spending money on me?"

Stan froze.

"What makes you say that?" He asked.

"I dunno, I've just been finding a lot of money around and you _did_ ask your dad for twenty before he left, saying you lost your last twenty."

"I just lost it, that's all."

"But why didn't you tell me? I would have helped you look for it."

Stan closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

"Because you needed that money more than I did."

Kyle got off of his bed and headed towards his window, gazing over the snowy outside and facing away from Stan.

"Dude…I told you not to lend me any money," he said.

"I know," Stan said, "I just felt really bad for you, watching you take crap from Cartman and everything."

"I always get crap from Cartman," he said, "it's not that big a deal."

"To me it is."

"You're just saying that because now he can rip on me for one more thing."

"No! It's not like that at all, I promise! I just really care about you, that's all."

But before Kyle could say anything else, his mother appeared at the door with a brilliant smile on her face (which was really rare for someone like Sheila).

"Kyle, the office just called, and your father got his job back!" Sheila announced happily.

Kyle lit up.

"Seriously?"

"Yep! They arrested Bernie Madoff a couple days ago, and now the economy's starting to become better, so that means your father's employed again."

He leapt up in some form of a victory dance. Stan laughed a little bit at his antics, but he was glad to see him happy.

"This is so sweet!" He said to Stan, "now I don't get free lunch!"

"So you're not mad at me anymore?"

Kyle sat back down on his bed and took a breath.

"Well, you did hide that from me…."

"Dude!"

"It's ok, I've forgiven you. On one condition."

Stan tilted his head in question and Kyle leapt out of his bed again, to where his father was in the hallway.

"Dad? Can I borrow twenty-five dollars so I can take Stan to Super Phun Thyme?"

XX

Yo, finished. Super Phun Thyme….I so wanna go there and have a super fun time. Lol, Bernie Madoff…thing is, he's Jewish, reinforcing the stereotype that Jews are greedy. But of course, I don't take in such stereotypes because they are harmful to the Jewish community. My sister wrote the part where Cartman's teasing Kyle with the apple. But wow, this one's long. I don't think I've ever exceeded 2000 words on a Style before. Lol I was so stuck….cool. I be writing anuzzer!


	3. Lip Balm

* * *

Mana here. I'll have to say, that the Burt's Bees pomegranate flavored lip balm is simply heavenly. I always keep a stick with me at school.

Lip Balm

Anyone can say that it's always cold in South Park, but a long time resident of the town can distinguish the different types of cold. There was the Fall cold, the Winter cold, the Spring cold, and the Summer cold. But the worst by far was the Winter cold.

Kyle's lips often grew chapped once winter rolled along. Colorado was very dry, and the brutal cold winters just made it worse. As a result, the Jew always carried a stick of Burt's Bees lip balm in his pocket.

Just recently, Kyle had purchased a brand new stick, and it was pomegranate flavored. When he first used it on his chapped lips, he breathed in through his mouth and could literally taste the pomegranate.

The scent was quite strong and very noticeable when he was around his friends.

"Dude, can I use some?" Kenny asked him, "my lips are fucking bleeding."

"That's 'cause your brother beat you up yesterday," Stan reminded him.

But Kyle, always the nice one, handed his lip balm to Kenny, who applied it liberally. He sighed in content after he handed back to Kyle.

"Mmm that feels loads better."

Over the course of that day, Kyle had dabbed his lips at least five times, for the cold was showing no mercy. Everything seemed normal.

Then the next day he woke up to a concentrated pain on the bottom half of his face. Curious, he looked in the mirror and was shocked to find a little red sore on the corner of his lip. He sank inside; he had let Kenny used his lip balm yesterday, but he didn't take into account that he's a notorious whore, who's probably got it up with every disease-ridden hooker on Colfax Avenue. He made a note to beat up Kenny that day when he got to school.

But before that, he had to figure out a way to cure his sore, and fast. Makeup was not an option for him since one, he didn't own any of the sort and two, there was no way he's asking his mom to use hers. Minutes passed while he was thinking of ways to alleviate his malady and it was time for him to leave for school.

He took a deep breath and set off for the bus stop. Nonetheless, Cartman teased him.

"OH MY GOD YOU HAVE AN STD YOU ASSHOLE!!" He bellowed.

But Kyle paid no mind to him; his rage was focused on Kenny. He didn't actually beat him up, but he sustained an icy glare to him for the rest of the day.

In a few days time with the help of Abreva, Kyle was officially sore-free. And one thing he learned from that experience, (and also with the internet) is to never let anyone borrow his lip balm ever again. The cold sore is caused by a virus that can never be killed; only repelled. And by using Abreva or other treatments, one could calm the virus, but never get rid of it completely. So anyone who has had cold sores still carried the virus, and therefore, Kyle should keep his lip balm to himself.

However his new policy resulted in a very displeased Kenny, whose lips were in dire need of relief.

"Dude, please?"

"No way Kenny, I don't want to go through that again!"

Kenny pouted, causing Cartman and Stan to laugh.

But little did he know, Stan was beginning to suffer from Winter's cruel bite, as his lips were starting to run a little dry. Soon enough he lost feeling on the surface of his lips, and the thin, sensitive skin showed signs of peeling.

"Dammit," He mumbled as he bit down on his bottom lip.

"What's up?"

"Lips are chapped," he ran his tongue in between them to try to moisten them, "do you still have that pomegranate stuff?"

"I can't let you use it, Stan, I'm sorry."

"Eh? Why?"

"I…don't wanna get cold sores again. That really hurt last time."

"What? But I don't have cold sores!"

"Yeah, but still, you can't be too careful."

"Come on dude I'm your best friend," Stan tried to reach for Kyle's lip balm but he held it away.

"No!"

"Aww but I'm gonna die without it!"

Kyle took a glace at Stan's mouth and found that his lips were indeed chapped. They were all dry and it looked incredibly uncomfortable.

"Ok, fine."

Stan went on to take the precious stick from Kyle, but he kept it away.

"No, not like that," Kyle said. He popped the cap off and swirled his pinky around in the scented petroleum. Stan nodded, knowing what was going to happen next.

"Hold still," Kyle ordered him, which Stan promptly obeyed.

Kyle dabbed his pinky at Stan's bottom lip, making sure the oily wax had covered all the affected areas. He went back down for more, since his first trial had run dry.

As Kyle began to apply more, he noticed Stan's breath growing faster and faster. For Stan, holding still was hard for him, and it made him anxious. Chills raced up Kyle's spine as Stan's every breath was felt on his hand.

"Stop breathing on me," Kyle said as his shaky finger traced Stan's bottom lip. Stan held his breath and stayed perfectly still.

Kyle smiled; a still Stan was so much easier to work with. It was just like finger painting, something he enjoyed doing. With Stan's lips as his paper, he ran his pinky gently through until they became smoother and more healthy-looking. But then without warning, Stan snapped forward, taking Kyle's finger in his teeth. Kyle withdrew quickly.

"You bit me!"

Stan grinned innocently.

"You know I hate holding still."

"Holding still is an essential in being a man, you know?"

Stan tilted his head.

"No?"

"Watch next time I have to put some more I'm gonna smear it all over your face!"

"You wouldn't," he said in mock hurt.

Kyle smirked evilly at Stan and flounced away to where Kenny and Cartman were playing football.

XX

I didn't know how to write a proper ending, I apologize XP But yeah…be careful when sharing your lip balm with people, k?


	4. Toothpaste

Mana here. ZOMG did anyone else thing "Margaritaville" was the best episode thus far in Season 13? It was so cute!! Kyle…the last supper and how he's all swiping the card through and everything. And then the next day he took a sick day awwww. ACK Stan too…lugging the Margaritaville thingy that was like twice his size..adorable! And the US Treasury Department? Epic win.

This is a little something that took me a while, and with the help and lovely editing of meine Schwester, I've finally put it up. I'm not all that sensitive to mint…I was when I was young, if I remember correctly. Haha, but it's cool. I like mint everything…even ice cream. Haha Kyle's such a horrible older brother.

Toothpaste

Kyle couldn't stand anything mint flavored. It was really strong to him, and even the simple spearmint tic tac would make him burst into tears.

He couldn't eat candy canes during the holidays, not that he was supposed to. He could never lick mint ice cream, use minted lip balm, and definitely not chew gum.

Toothpaste was a problem for him until he found a brilliant solution. When Ike had begun teething, he needed the baby toothpaste, the kind that wasn't strong. Kyle saw this as a chance to make things better for himself. During the middle of the night when everyone was asleep, he'd sneak into the bathroom and empty the contents of his and Ike's toothpaste in two bags. Then he's squeeze Ike's strawberry-flavored toothpaste into his tube, and his Colgate Mint into Ike's tube.

This process took about twenty minutes to perform every month and a half, but it was totally worth it. No one suspected a thing, not even when Ike was bawling his brains out every time the white paste touched the inside of his mouth.

"Oh come on sweetie, it's good for you," Sheila coaxed him.

That morning Ike gave Kyle a particularly dirty look when he accidently breathed in his direction. The scent of strawberries from Kyle's mouth was a dead giveaway, yet Kyle didn't realize.

"What?" he asked the baby.

Ike sustained his glare. On most occasions, Kyle and Ike were really tight; they understood each other even though the most Ike could utter was simple baby talk. Kyle shrugged and continued with his morning activities until he had to leave for school.

Mr. Garrison's class was to go on an overnight trip to the mountains. It was May, so it was a little warmer. This meant day hikes and swimming in the lake which everyone looked forward to (except Cartman, who hated any physical activities.)

When they got to the campsite, they immediately set up their tents. Naturally Stan and Kyle assigned themselves a tent together. They had to set up quickly, getting their stuff inside and unpacked, since they were on a tight schedule for a day hike.

In the midst of rapid unpacking, both boys' stuff had become mixed together. Kyle went to go sort it out, but Stan suggested otherwise.

"It's ok, let's just leave it," Stan said as he tugged on Kyle's sleeve, "Garrison's gonna kill us if we're late."

Kyle shrugged, figuring it was ok. He didn't mind accidentally using Stan's stuff or him using his.

Night had come quite fast in the mountains. Mr. Garrison had declared "lights out" in thirty minutes, giving the students just enough time to get themselves ready for sleep.

"That was hella lame of you guys, just leaving me at that clearing!" Cartman had finished changing into his Wellington Bear PJ's.

"Liar!" Stan snapped, "you got lost! Admit it!"

Cartman shrugged arrogantly.

"If we went my way we would have gotten back faster."

Kyle glared over at him as he squeezed his red toothpaste onto his brush.

"Ay, Jew that toothpaste isn't money! Gimmie some!" Cartman made a grab for Kyle's toothpaste, which he held close to his chest as fast as he could.

"You should have brought your own, fatass!" He countered.

Stan sighed, predicting another argument lest he impedes it.

"Here, you can use mine," he tossed his tube to Cartman after squeezing himself a strip.

As Kyle proceeded in brushing his teeth, a look of shock came across his face once the red paste touched his tongue. This wasn't his usual strawberry-flavored toothpaste…it was cinnamon! Cinnamon for him was just as bad as mint, if not worse. Along with being strong, it was also spicy; a little too spicy for him. It made his nose runny along with teary eyes.

He debated whether to spit out the toothpaste, but then decided he didn't exactly want to spit it out now, not when it was already in his mouth. He brushed himself a little but it was too strong for him. A few noticed his teary eyes and color rising to his cheeks.

"Aww you miss your mahm, Kahl?" Cartman crooned like poison honey.

Kyle spit out his toothpaste promptly.

"Shut up!" He said, but the tears in his eyes and backed up sinuses made his voice a little shaky.

Stan, being the best friend, rushed over to help Kyle. He filled a paper cup with water and gave it to him.

"Easy now, get it all out of there," he rubbed Kyle's back as he gargled the water and spit it out, hoping to remove all traces of the venomous toothpaste from his sensitive mouth.

"Dude! I think I took yours by accident," Kyle said after spitting out a mouthful of water.

"Yeah, I kind of figured," Stan said, "and that means I probably took yours."

Kyle paused.

"Wait. So if you took mine and you lent some of it to Cartman then—"

He blushed as Cartman stormed into their area of the bathroom, pink foam dripping down his chin.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?" Cartman spat more of the toothpaste in the sink, "Strawberry?! What kind of a man are you Stan, using strawberry flavored toothpaste? It's not even mentholated! What the hell?"

Stan smirked at Kyle and expected him to smirk back, but instead the red on Kyle's face grew a hint darker. He didn't like the idea of his manhood being demeaned, especially in front of Stan. All his life Stan had appeared as the stronger one, and Kyle did his best to compete with him.

Stan noticed Kyle's non-amusement immediately and turned to Cartman.

"A little sensitivity in a man never hurt anyone," Stan said coolly, capping his toothpaste and placing it nonchalantly in his backpack as Cartman continued to jeer at him.

Kyle couldn't help smiling to himself as he walked back to the tent alone. As demeaning as it was, he always liked when Stan stuck up for him, even if he was doing so in secret. Stan had taken the fall for him, after all; Kyle couldn't ask for a better best friend.

As he shined his flashlight on the dusty path he looked up into the sky. The stars were so much brighter out in the forest.

When he reached the tent, he crawled into his green Terrance and Philip sleeping bag, took off his hat and buried himself inside. He was exhausted from their busy day and he couldn't wait for sleep. Just as he was about to close his eyes, the tent flaps flew open and Stan climbed in. Kyle smiled a greeting, but it was too dark to see.

"Hey," he said instead.

"Feeling better?" Stan shined his flashlight at Kyle once he was situated in his blue Terrance and Philip sleeping bag.

Kyle wasn't sure if he was referring to the incident with the toothpaste or the secret harassing by Cartman, but he nodded and smiled.

"So, you don't like the spicy variety?" Stan nudged him playfully. Kyle giggled.

"Or the minted," he confessed.

"Allergic?"

Kyle shook his head. "I can't handle that stuff in my mouth. It hurts me."

"Aww…" Stan said without noticing himself.

"What?" Kyle asked, mock-punching him.

"Sorry, it's just kind cute, that's all."

Kyle's stomach did a flip. _Did he just call me cute?_ "What's that supposed to mean?!" He said, now smacking him with a pillow.

"It's not in a bad way, I promise!" Stan said, blocking the blow. "It's just that…"

"What?"

Stan chuckled and leaned in toward Kyle. "I was wondering why you smell so sweet every day."

Stan blew his strawberry scented breath in Kyle's flushed face to prove his point.

XX

I had to smile at this last part here, honestly. I've seen the toothpaste at the store that's for really little kids, but I don't remember seeing any strawberry flavored ones. That would be sweet if there was…lol I'd so buy one and use it just for the lulz.


	5. Touch

Mana here. This is a little bit out of my comfort zone, but I just _had_ to do it. I thought the idea is pretty sweet…pretty awesome. And I liked that episode too, the molestation adventure one.

Touch

"Good evening, South Park," Tom the news anchor read convincingly from the marquee, "our top story tonight: local resident and elementary school teacher Herbert Garrison has been arrested on charges of child molestation and battery. And now reporting from the victim's home is a midget in a bikini."

Stan and Kyle laughed as the midget announced the latest downfall in their teacher's life.

"Mr. Garrison's such an asshole," Stan uttered in between laughs.

"Seriously! How many times has he been arrested already?"

"No idea, but this means we're getting a new teacher."

"Aw crap, I hope it isn't Mr. Wyland, he sucks," Kyle made a face.

"Better him than Cartman, I guess."

Kyle nodded and began to focus on the location where the bikini-clad midget was reporting.

"Isn't that Kenny's house?" Stan asked suddenly.

The setting did look familiar, with all the furniture and animals everywhere.

"Probably," Kyle replied.

They boys listened to the broadcast a little longer.

"Thanks, midget. Garrison is expected to serve up to three years in the federal prison without possibility of parole, seeing as that this is his third offense this year."

Stan changed the channel to see what else is on.

"Hey Stan, remember when we all told the police that our parents 'molestered' us?"

Stan recalled the event where Kyle's parents had forbidden him to go to the Raging Pussies concert and he got back at them by telling authorities that they molested him. Cartman had suggested to Kyle to use that to get rid of his parents and soon enough every child in South Park had come crying to the police saying that their parents had molested them. It was sweet having no parents for a while, but then it backfired once they created a new world order where there were two sides that were in constant war with each other. He shuddered as he remembered seeing the bodies of young children tethered to the John Elway statue in the park that had been sacrificed for "Carousel."

"Stan?" Kyle snapped his fingers in Stan's direction to wake him up from his stupor.

"Oh? Oh, sorry Kyle," Stan shook himself awake, "yeah, those were some pretty fucked up times."

Kyle chuckled softly.

"Yeah. I was wondering though, what did Cartman mean by 'good touch' and 'bad touch?'"

Stan did remember Cartman saying something about that when he was telling Kyle about molestation.

"Cartman said that you have to say 'bad touch' when you're telling the police what happened, but I don't really understand what he meant. Do you?"

Stan shook his head.

"I don't know," he said, "it probably means if they hurt you or not."

Kyle shrugged.

"Let's go ask my dad," Stan said, leading Kyle out of his bedroom and downstairs.

Randy was on the couch watching the news broadcast about Mr. Garrison's arrest and sipping a bottle of Coors.

"Hey dad," Stan asked, "what's good touch and bad touch?"

Randy blinked away from the TV and focused on his son and his son's best friend.

"What?" He asked.

"When you get molestered, they ask you about good touch and bad touch. What is that?"

Randy cleared his throat.

"Well you see son, there are a lot of sick people out there who take pleasure in hearing children scream. So they…er…touch children in…er…places so that they scream. And when someone touches you in that manner, that's bad touch. Do you understand?"

"So a bad touch is when you touch someone and they scream?"

"Yeah... yeah, sure."

"Like if I hit Kyle like this?" Stan slapped Kyle on the cheek, who yelped at the pain.

"No, not like that," Randy took a swig of his beer, "that's called 'battery.' Molesting is when you're touched in places that are supposed to feel good when you're older, but they just feel weird now. I guess."

Stan gave him a confused look.

"Look son, you'll know all about this in time."

"But I want to know now! What if someone's molestering me and I'm not sure if it's bad touch or not?"

"I think you'll know, but don't think about that right now, ok?"

Stan shrugged and led Kyle back to his room.

"This is eating away at me!" He said as he threw himself on top of his bed.

"Why don't you just check the internet?" Kyle suggested.

"I'm not doing that again," he said, remembering the time when he wanted to figure out the secret to make Wendy love him more than any other person.

"Alright, then how about this?" Kyle suggested, "I'll run my hands over you and you can tell me what it feels like, ok?"

"I don't know, what if something happens and I get scarred for life?"

In all the news stories Stan had heard of regarding child molestation, the victims sometimes have to see therapists daily to cope with all the anxieties of having been molested. If a simple touch could put someone in therapy for a long time, then it is probably dangerous.

"Tell me when it feels weird and I'll stop."

"A-alright," Stan had taken his shirt off to make it easier for Kyle to touch him, "I trust you, ok?"

Kyle started with both his hands on Stan's face, feeling the curves and contours of his features on his fingertips. Stan gave a little shudder; Kyle's hands were cold!

"Feels weird yet?" He asked.

"Nope, keep going," Stan replied, breathing nervously.

He moved down to his warm neck, where he could feel his pulse beating erratically. He stopped a little to take in his warmth on his hands before moving down to his chest.

"Still ok?"

"Yup, I think so."

He traced his fingers down Stan's chest and along his ribcage. Stan began to emit small laughs, at which Kyle withdrew his hands immediately.

"Sorry! Are you ok!"

"Yeah," Stan breathed, "I'm just ticklish over there."

"You're not hurt or anything now, are you?"

"No I'm fine, keep going."

Kyle resumed his feeling of Stan's ribcage. He let one of his hands travel over to Stan's shoulder and let it slide slowly down his arm. He did so a little quicker than with the rest of his body, since he already figured that the arm isn't exactly a sensitive part of the body. He then traveled down from Stan's ribcage to this abdomen, and more laughs were stifled.

"Sorry, I'm kinda ticklish over there too," Stan explained.

"But it doesn't feel like a bad touch, does it?"

"No, I don't think so."

Just as Kyle was about to let his hands wander to Stan's hips and eventually under his pants, a knock came to the bedroom door. Kyle withdrew himself and tossed a shirt from the floor over Stan's naked front.

"Yes?" Stan called.

"Boys, Kenny's gonna sleep over with you guys," Sharon called through Stan's door, "and be nice to him, he's still a little shaken up from your teacher."

Kenny sauntered into the room and from the looks of it, he didn't appear to be shaken up at all from the incident.

"'Sup dudes," he said as he entered. He paused when he saw Kyle all over a topless Stan. "What the hell are you doing?"

"We're trying to find out what a bad touch is," Stan said.

"Do you know what it is Kenny?"

Kenny raised an eyebrow and then burst into laughter.

"Well you got the idea of it," he walked over to the two and hopped a seat on the bed.

"Hm?" Stan asked as Kyle gave him back his shirt to put on.

"At least that's how Mr. Garrison started out with me," he said with his eyes on the ground.

Both boys exchanged shocked looks.

"Oh crap, sorry Kenny," Stan put a hand to his shoulder, "mom said you're still shaken up from it, but how are you doing?"

Kenny brushed it all aside, "don't worry about me, I'm fine," he said.

"But…he molestered you," Kyle said, "didn't it, like, scar you or something?"

"It did feel really weird," he said, "but at the same time, I'll be ok. There are other worse things that molesters do to kids than what Mr. Garrison did to me."

"What _did_ he do to you?" Stan asked, curious.

"Oh, a little bit of this, some of that, you know?" Kenny chuckled darkly.

"No?"

"What he means is, did he 'bad-touch' you?" Kyle asked.

Kenny lowered his eyes.

"Yeah, he kinda did. Or that's what the police call it."

Both of them gasped.

"But Kenny," Kyle asked, "What exactly _is _a bad-touch? I still don't get what it is. Everyone keeps saying that I'll find out when I'm older, but I want to know now. I mean… how am I supposed to know if I'm being molestered if I don't know how to—"

"Here, Kyle." Kenny pulled him by the wrist and began unbuttoning his shirt, "I might as well show you if you're so curious about it."

XX

Gotta love Kenny. And childhood innocence. Is it so wrong I am exploiting them for that?


	6. Dishes

Mana here. I do not mind at all washing the dishes in my home, but I always gotta wear the gloves since hot water kinda hurts me. I'm kinda afraid of heated surfaces and really hot water. A lot of times when I was younger I would put my hand on the radiator (my really old house was built in the 1950s with those twisty radiators) and burn myself. It was a very traumatic experience, lol.

Dishes

"Stanley, will you be a dear and wash the dishes?" Sharon asked him through the kitchen.

Stan paused the game him and Kyle were playing to answer his mother.

"But mom, we're busy! And Kyle's over."

"Then have him wash them with you, I'm sure it will be fun."

Stan didn't want to say anything else, for fear of angering his mother. She was very nice woman and mother, always concerned about the well being of her family. She loved nothing more than to make her children happy, but she definitely wasn't a Lianne Cartman. He sighed and got up from the cushion he was burrowed in and motioned for Kyle to come and follow him to the kitchen.

His eyes widened in shock when he saw the stack of dirty dishes in the sink.

"Jesus Christ! How could you let this happen, Mom?" He asked in a tone of mock-shock.

"Don't give me that, Stanley," she snapped, "it was your turn to wash the dishes this week anyway. Now hurry, I want to start dinner soon."

He sighed as he turned on the tap to the hottest setting.

"I'll wash and you dry, ok?" He said to Kyle. Kyle nodded.

Stan began with the topmost plate. He took the sponge from the side and scrubbed the plate as hard as he could. Like most people of the OCD variety, he wanted to make sure that the dishes were so clean they sparkled. Besides, eating dinner from a dirty plate was pretty gross.

He held the newly cleaned dish above him, satisfied with the sparkle. He turned to Kyle, who was standing by the cabinet with a towel slung on his arm like a waiter. He figured this way, he could dry them and place them in the cabinet, making work quicker.

Stan didn't feel like calling Kyle over to retrieve the plate, dry it, and walk back to the cabinet so he decided to try something.

"Catch!" He smirked, tossing the plate to Kyle. He was confident Kyle would catch it; during recess, he was always great at catching footballs.

The plate landed in Kyle's hands easily, but to his surprise it was hot. His hands weren't like Stan's; they were very soft and very sensitive which began to hurt when expose to hot things, whereas Stan could withstand holding his hands under water of extreme temperatures for very long. He quickly dropped the plate without thinking beforehand that it would shatter to a million pieces on the floor. He let out a yell of shock.

Stan quickly set down the soap-covered bowl he was working on and turned to Kyle, who was surrounded by thousands of white shards. He took note of Kyle's bare feet.

"Don't move!" He commanded.

"Stanley Marsh!" His mother bellowed, "I saw that!"

"Oh crap," he muttered as he took the dustpan and small broom out of the pantry, "Sorry, Mom!"

"Sorry? You could have murdered poor Kyle! Throwing a dish like that…what's gotten into you?"

"I won't do it again, promise," he said, sweeping away the shards lying in Kyle's vicinity. Sharon sighed something that sounded like "you'd better" and left the kitchen.

"My fault for not catching it," Kyle said, "I'll dry them by the sink if that's better."

Stan nodded and invited Kyle over next to him. He resumed scrubbing the bowl as hard as he could, to erase away the traces of last night's dinner. Once he was sure it was clean, he handed it to Kyle to dry. Kyle dropped the bowl in the sink, which shattered. He really hated how sensitive his skin was to heat.

"Dude!" Stan laughed, taking the spray nozzle and spraying shards down the garbage disposal.

Kyle chuckled uneasily.

"Sorry again," he said.

"You better stop being so clumsy, or I'm gonna start spraying you," Stan threatened.

Kyle laughed at his antics.

"Kahl, I'm seriouslah!" He said in a Cartman tone. This just caused Kyle to laugh harder.

Stan smirked and pressed the spray button on the head, sending a splash of water in Kyle's face.

"Oww," Kyle said, drying himself off quickly with his sleeve, "damn that's hot! Seriously Stan, why the hell do you gotta make the water so hot?"

Stan shrugged.

"It kills the germs better? That's what my mom said at least."

"I'm pretty sure turning it down a bit won't kill you guys," Kyle said reaching for the knob. But before he could turn it to the cool setting, Stan had grabbed his hand.

"Stan!" Kyle gasped; his hands were really hot from the water, so feeling them on his own skin was quite shocking. Stan grabbed Kyle's other hand that was resting on the table, so he had both Kyle's hands in his.

"You're hands are really soft," Stan said, more to himself than to Kyle.

Kyle blushed at this statement.

"Stan," Kyle said, "please, I'm supposed to be drying dishes."

But Stan paid no mind to his pleas. Slowly, he moved Kyle's hands to the hot running water, ignoring the flinch and the gasp.

"Let it run for a few minutes," he said, "you'll get used to it."

Kyle managed to tolerate the scalding water on his hands for half a minute. Then it got to the point where the water was so hot it felt cold on his skin, so he withdrew them immediately.

"Oww," he muttered, while turning the water to the cold setting, letting his hands relax and renew themselves.

Stan chuckled a little and smirked at him.

"Can't take the heat?"

Kyle shook his head vigorously.

"How the hell can you manage?" He asked.

"Once, mom was making French fries and I didn't know the oil in the deep fryer was still hot, so I reached in to grab a fry and the oil burned me," he said.

"Heh," Kyle laughed.

"That's not funny dude, it really hurt," Stan said, "but yeah, that was the most painful thing I've ever had to deal with, so anything else doesn't really hurt me.

"And that's why you can stand hot water?"

"Yeah, pretty much. At least it doesn't leave your hands covered in disgusting boils afterwards," he made a face, recalling his experience with the burning oil.

"Well, not everyone wants to dip their hands in hot oil to get used to hot water," Kyle said, poking Stan's chest teasingly.

"Hey, I didn't do that on purpose!" He said, poking him in return.

Stan went back to his washing, focusing now on another plate. He examined it in his hands and then looked to Kyle, who was nervously awaiting the next hot dish. He smiled slightly, and then reached for the knob on the sink, turning it from hot to a happy medium between cold and hot. He re-washed the dish, so that it would absorb the new temperature. He handed the newly cleaned dish to Kyle, who thankfully did not drop it this time.

"That's much better," he said, drying the plate and setting it aside.

Stan shrugged.

"You shouldn't have to deal with that kind of stuff if you're not ready," he said, "it was lame of me to force it on you and all, so I decided it's the least I could do."

Kyle smiled at his statement, and dried the plate quick no longer worrying himself with getting hurt.

XX

Yeah…don't throw dishes at people. And wear socks at least if a dish happens to shatter at your feet.


	7. Dog

Mana here. Happy Easter to all! And let's thank the lord for this epic Easter miracle of the freedom of Captain Philips. I'm seriously…it's like the best Easter miracle ever. I even put my flag outside my house to celebrate another victory for America XD Let's show those Somali bastards that that's what happens when you fuck with America!

Anyway…I lied!! I will post another fic here. I thought of it last night, trying to sleep. I'm half Filipino and occasionally people rip on my culture for eating dogs. First off let me tell you that that is NOT COOL! Seriously…we don't eat dogs. In really old customs, it's used as an initiation into manhood once a male turns 18 but nobody does that anymore. But hey, I can use it as a threat…"stop belittling my people, or I'm gonna eat your dog!!"

Dog

Stanley loved his dog Sparky the best out of everyone in his household. Sparky never judged him, beat him up, ordered him around, did stupid things, or told him to kill him. He would console him when he was sad or celebrate with him when he was happy. He was just the playful fun-loving dog who was always there for him, always ready for a game of fetch or just simple cuddling by the fire place. Nothing would ever tear apart the love Stan had for him.

So needless to say, Stan was mighty shocked when Mr. Garrison told the class that people actually eat dogs.

"Yes, children. Dogs are considered delicacies in certain regions in Asia."

The class paid attention promptly.

"But Mr. Garrison," Wendy said, "consuming domestic pets is inhumane."

Stan felt a rush of warmth in his heart for her when she said that.

"Yes, in America it's inhumane. But in places like China and Southeast Asia in very rural communities where there is no law, people just go on and raise dogs to kill."

"AHA!" Cartman rose out of his seat and pointed to Kevin Chang, the only Chinese person in the class, "fucking dog-eater!"

"Eric, that's enough," Mr. Garrison sighed.

Cartman sank back down in his seat, but sustained the glare on Kevin. Stan couldn't help but to shoot an angry glance in the direction of Kevin as well.

"Ok children, as I was saying…" Mr. Garrison continued the rest of his lecture uninterrupted.

--

"Dude, that's pretty fucked up right there," Kyle said as the four set off after school, "you know, eating dogs and shit."

"Seriouslah," Cartman kicked a pebble, "what the fuck is wrong with Chinese people?"

"It's not just Chinese people who eat dogs, you know," Kenny said darkly, "I've consumed some dog steak before?"

Everyone gasped.

"WHAT?" Stan, Kyle and Cartman said in unison.

"It's not like that though," Kenny said quickly, "see once upon a winter, dad was having trouble making ends meet, and there are usually tons of dogs running around my neighborhood, so once in the middle of the night he just took a large adult male and—"

He made the sound of an animal being sliced, leaving the three totally grossed out.

"What did it taste like?" Kyle asked.

"Well actually it was pretty good," Kenny said casually, "dad grilled it and smoked it nicely, so it tasted pretty decent."

"I guess that sound good," Kyle agreed.

Cartman still was not swayed.

"Dude, you know how in Warcraft they have wolf meat that you can roast and eat? Doesn't that sound good?" Kenny asked.

"Hmm…you kinda have a point nyah," Cartman said.

"That actually does sound pretty tasty," Kyle said, "why can't they sell wolf meat at the store? They'd have great business."

"You guys, stop," Stan said smiling uncomfortably. He didn't wanna seem like a pussy and have them make fun of him, but he loved his dog way too much to stand there and listen to ways on how dogs are cooked.

"Yeah, if you keep this up, I might have to stop by Stan's and roast his dog," Kyle joked.

They all laughed except for Stan who had a look of shock and horror.

"You guys are fucking lunatics!" He shrieked and then ran off towards his house.

Cartman laughed loudly, ridiculing Stan for his pussy-like behavior. Kenny joined in but just to make slight comments. He noticed Kyle grew quiet, perhaps concerned for Stan.

Stan rushed to his home as quick as possible. He felt a little bad for ditching his friends back there, but he just couldn't handle their talk any longer.

"I'm home," he called into the house. No one answered him, which meant that they were all out. Then he saw Sparky sitting on the couch in the living room. He smiled.

"Come here, boy," he said, crouching down onto his knees. The dog saw this as a chance for play, so he sprinted from the couch and onto Stan's lap. He tackled Stan to the floor and began showering his face in wet kisses. He giggled when the dog's warm tongue made contact on his skin. He sat up and petted Sparky's coat as he continued to receive more kisses. Then he wrapped his arms around his neck and brought him close.

"I'm never gonna let any Asian bastards eat you, boy," he mumbled. But of course Sparky didn't understand, so he gave the back of Stan's neck a quick lick.

--

The next day when Stan came home from school, he found that Sparky was not in the living room—or in the house for that matter.

"Mom, where's Sparky?" He asked his mother, who was chopping onions in the kitchen.

"Oh, Kyle was over a little while ago, waiting for you. I told him to take Sparky on a walk and see if he'll run into you."

Stan's heart sank.

"Mom, how could you?" he asked frantically, "he's gonna kill him and eat him!"

Sharon raised an eyebrow.

"You watch too many horror movies, Stanley."

"No mom, it's true! He and the guys were talking about how good dogs taste yesterday and then Kyle said something about eating Sparky! He's gonna fucking eat him, mom!"

She slapped him lightly on the cheek for his swearing.

"Why don't you go look for him? He's probably looking for you right now, and he'll be more than happy to see you."

Stan left the kitchen, appalled at his mother's apathy toward the state of his dog. He could already be roasting in the Jew's oven by now!

He raced through the streets of South Park in search for that familiar green hat. It took him a while and he finally found him in a park far away from his house.

"KYLE!!" He screamed out. Kyle turned around quickly but then smiled as he saw Stan approaching.

"Hey dude," he greeted warmly.

"Where the fuck is Sparky?" He snapped, ignoring all of Kyle's pleasantries.

Kyle blinked, surprised at his friend's sudden rage.

"H-he's right here, dude," he said, pointing to the dog beside him. Stan picked up Sparky from the ground and cradled him to his chest.

"Oh my God," he whispered over and over. Sparky sensed his distress and ran frantic kisses down his cheek to make him feel better.

"Stan, what the fuck?" Kyle stood up and approached Stan. He backed away sharply.

"You stay the fuck away from Sparky, you hear?" He snapped. Tears were evident in his eyes as he held his dog closer, kissing his furry cheek.

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"But your mom said I could walk him," he said.

"You were gonna walk him to your oven! I heard you yesterday, saying that dogs taste pretty good and that you'd eat Sparky!"

Kyle went pale for a split second and then erupted into laughter.

"You thought I was gonna _eat_ him?" He laughed, "I was wondering why you ran off yesterday!"

Stan went pink and shot Kyle a small glare.

"Dude, I was just saying that yesterday so I wouldn't offend Kenny! You think I would actually eat my best friend's dog? Or any dog for that matter? That's sick!"

Kyle sat down on the grass against a thick trunk of a tree and pulled Stan's jacket lightly, telling him to sit down with him.

"Dude, sorry if I scared you or something yesterday," Kyle said, "I totally didn't mean it."

Stan shook his head.

"My fault for not trusting you," he said, "I should have known my best friend wouldn't do that to me."

Kyle patted him on the back.

"It's cool, dude. Let's forget about that and have fun now."

Sparky was resting on Stan's lap, leaning his head against his chest. Stan petted him gently and received a kiss in return.

"You wanna hold Sparky?" Stan said, offering his dog to Kyle. Kyle took him and placed him on his lap and ran his hand down his coat.

"I'm not gonna eat you, boy," he told the dog. Then Sparky leaned forward and began showering Kyle in kisses. He giggled at the touch, causing Stan to smile a little. Then Kyle gasped, backing away violently.

"SICK! He licked my mouth!"

Stan laughed as he watched Kyle frantically scrub at his lips with the sleeve of his jacket.

"You let him lick your face," Stan said, taking Sparky into his lap and stroking his head.

"Yeah, but that's different," Kyle said, "It's like he's actually kissing me."

"Maybe he's got a crush on you," Stan smirked, "he is a gay dog after all."

Kyle went furiously scarlet, causing Stan to laugh even more.

"Is it true, boy?" Stan said to his dog, "Do you have a crush on Kyle?"

Sparky answered Stan with a lick to his mouth.

XX

I love dogs, I won't lie. I'd like a dog of my own…probably a German Sheppard XD I'll name it Himmler so I can say "Himmler you bastard!!"

By the way, I'm not sure if Kevin's last name is Chang. I'm just being real racist here, please forgive me?


	8. Sick

Mana here. Omg she finally updated!!! Is probably what you're thinking. Ehh don't blame me! I've had a lot going on for me these past two weeks. I had a project for my creative writing class that demanded a lot from me, so I was pretty busy there. And last weekend was quite special to me; my friends from my old school in Colorado had to go to Disneyland for a band/orchestra/choir trip and I went to see them. It was so awesome seeing them again…makes me want to move back to Colorado now =P And…I saw my ex. Let me just say though in the voice of Craig, I was sooooooo happy =) It was so sweet to see him again. I don't hate him, nor have I gained any feelings for him again. We patched up some things and he'd been so sweet to me that day and what not, but I won't bore you here with details =P However I might write about it in a fic. It was that awesome.

And apparently someone had taken one of my fics of this series and posted it on DeviantArt as their own…I'm assuming they took it for their own, since I wasn't credited at all on it. I'd like to thank GameCubeGirl1 very much here for telling me about this =) I don't have a DA account nor do I follow many fanfics from there, so without her telling me, I wouldn't have known. I thank her, and my best friend for commenting on that page and GCG's report which most likely got the fic removed. This makes me happy…shows I've got support in real life and on the interwebs =P But let me just say, you could post my fics on DA or anywhere if you'd like…just as long as you give me credit or refer a link, mmkay? Cuz stealing is bad…it's gonna get you arrested someday, and jail sucks.

Anyway…this fic is intended as a really, really late birthday fic for Nao…and for reasons I have slacked off on it =O I'm sorry!!! But please enjoy =)

Sick

Kyle stood outside the Marsh residence with his green scarf bundled snugly around his neck and a collective assortment of papers and folders held around his arms to his chest. When Stan called him on Monday saying that he got sick, Kyle expected something like that would happen. Stan had never gotten terribly sick when he was very young, so there was bound to be some colds or flues that he was not yet immune to. And since it was _just_ a cold, Kyle was positive he'd see his buddy again the next day. But when he didn't return on Tuesday, he called his home again. This time it was Sharon who answered and said that Stan had still been feeling very unwell.

Today was Wednesday, and Stan still didn't come back. Kyle, being a good best friend, decided to stop over and bring Stan the homework and assignments he had missed and also visit him, but he was nervous to see him. Stan was the strongest person he's ever known and it bothered him a little to see him looking weak and just…sick. But he took a deep breath, approached the front door and entering. He was used to entering Stan's house on his own; he'd been doing it for years.

He took the familiar route to Stan's bedroom and knocked tentatively on the door. When he saw that it was opened slightly he came in.

Stan was sitting on his bed with his back propped up against four pillows. A bottle of Nyquil rested atop his nightstand, barely touched and a humidifier sat in the corner, letting out a steady steam. The TV was turned on and the feature was Terrance and Philip, a favorite of the boys, but Stan's face didn't seem to show any interest.

"Stan?" Kyle said finally after observing his friend.

Stan turned to face him and his look shocked Kyle. His hair hung lank around his face, no poof to it like it normally was. His skin was sallow and his eyes, usually a sparkling blue, shone dull, watery and tired.

_Poor guy_, Kyle thought.

"Oh, hey dude," Stan tried to crack a smile but to Kyle, it wasn't convincing. He pitied him, trying to imagine the pain he was in. After lots of years of being sick, Kyle came to realize that it wasn't fun at all.

Kyle approached Stan's bed after setting the books he brought on his desk. He put a hand to Stan's forehead and twitched at how hot it was.

"Are you feeling better?" Kyle asked.

Stan groaned, causing Kyle to laugh a little.

"Ok, I guess you aren't feeling better."

It was Stan's turn to laugh. It was a short, crisp laugh, because his throat hurt too much to give it full effort. His voice had become deeper because of his backed up sinuses.

"I don't know, I think I'm getting better but right now I just feel really gross."

"Aw, I know where you're coming from," Kyle said, "you just need some fresh air. Want me to open one of the windows?"s

Stan shook his head.

"No, please," he said with a slight panic to his voice.

Kyle put his hands quickly back to his sides.

"Sorry."

"No, don't worry," Stan said, waving his hand, "Shelley left my window open Sunday night when I was asleep and that's why I got sick so…"

"What a bitch," he retorted, "why would she do that?"

"I think I broke either one of her dolls or CD's, I can't remember."

Kyle's mouth went in an "o" formation. Shelley was very territorial, and her little brother going in and breaking her some of her precious things, even by accident, was a deed that wouldn't go unpunished.

"That's no reason to almost kill you!"

"Kill?" Stan chuckled, "that's taking it a bit too far there. But no, don't worry Kyle, I'm fine."

Then a knock came to Stan's bedroom door.

"Come in," Stan called.

It was his mother, carrying a large bowl of soup.

"Oh, Kyle," Sharon smiled at him, "I didn't know you were here."

"Sorry, Mrs. Marsh," Kyle said, "I just came over to give Stan his homework."

"Oh, how sweet of you," he smiled, "well I don't recommend you staying in Stan's room for so long. I'd hate for you to have what he has."

Kyle shook his head politely.

"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Marsh."

"Well, alright then…just be careful, ok? And don't you do anything to get him sick, Stanley."

She set the bowl on his nightstand and left the room. Stan stared at his meal on his side; it was vegetable soup, same as what he had last night. No meat, just veggies…

"Stan? Do you need help eating this or…" Kyle went to take Stan's bowl off his nightstand but Stan stopped him.

"I can feed myself, dude," he said sitting up, "I'm not dying, you know."

After having finished his soup, Stan set the bowl back on the table. Kyle offered to take it back to the kitchen, but Stan said it was ok. For the rest of the afternoon, the two spent the time catching up on what had been happening at school. Much to Stan's disappointment, it had been a very eventful week at school as Kyle elaborately retold the latest prank he and Kenny did on Cartman.

"Seriously! You should have seen Cartman's face when we told him it wasn't candy!" Kyle said through laughs.

"Yeah…" Stan sighed.

"Are you ok?" Kyle caught Stan shifting in his blankets, a sure sign that he was cold.

"Mmm…I'm fine," Stan said, pulling his sheets over his chest and getting himself into a comfortable position.

"Oh, you want me to get you more blankets?"

Stan nodded.

"Please."

Kyle leapt out of the room and into the hallway, locating the closet where all the blankets were kept. He had only been into that closet once before with Stan, helping him get blankets during the last time Kyle slept over. It too was a cold night.

Kyle finally decided on a maroon comforter, one that was filled with cotton rather than down. Down would be nice and warm, but often times it was messy, with fluff flying everywhere and what not. And the last thing Stan needs is more dust in the air to irritate his sinuses.

"There ya go," Kyle said, placing the red comforter over Stan's other blankets.

He tucked in the sides, trying to trap in all the warmth possible. Stan shifted in the blankets for a comfortable position, but he didn't look content.

"Something the matter?"

"Do you think you could…get some more blankets? I'm still kinda cold."

Kyle pressed a hand to his cheek.

"You're not cold, dude," Kyle said.

"I am!" Stan whined, "I'm freezing."

"Seriously…you're burning up. If I add anymore blankets you're gonna get overheated."

"I don't care," he groaned, "I just need to be warm."

Kyle looked into Stan's eyes; they were sorrowful to him, yearning for that one thing to make him content. Then he got an idea. He parted Stan's blankets, creating a space for him to slip in.

"What are you doing?" Stan asked.

"If you're that cold, I might as well come in there and warm you up. No need to waste anymore blankets."

"But…you'll get sick."

"I get sick all the time. I probably had your cold before, which means I'm most likely immune to it."

"…are you sure?"

"Positive, dude."

Stan shrugged and scooted over, allowing Kyle some space to slip in. And when Kyle was finally tucked in alongside Stan, he began to feel all the difference.

"You're really warm," Stan said, bringing Kyle closer to him. Kyle grew flushed with Stan's body heat radiating onto him. It was an uncomfortable feeling, but this was the only way Stan would get better so he let himself go. Then, being able to ignore the heat, he drifted away into a dreamless sleep.

--

Stan woke up the next morning feeling very refreshed. His sinuses were no longer backed up and he took a deep breath of the morning air; it felt wonderful, even if it was just the air confined in his room. He stretched in his bed, letting out a groan of pleasure and tore his covers off. The mirror that was in front of his bed displayed his reflection; his face was back to its normal color and his eyes were sparkling again.

But then he grimaced at his hair; his bangs had become matted to his forehead due to excess perspiration when he was asleep. And when he thought about it, he felt the rest of his body covered in sweat; his shirt was sticking to his back uncomfortably. But perspiration was good; they say when you have a cold, it's best to sweat it out. Overhead the pathogen and kill it out of the system. Then he remembered Kyle had been sleeping alongside him and blushed at the fact that he had probably drenched the poor Jewish boy with his sweat. When he turned to his left to apologize to him, he found no one.

On cue, Sharon knocked and opened Stan's door.

"Feeling better sweetie?" She asked.

"Yeah," Stan beamed, "I feel loads better! But where's Kyle?"

"Oh, Kyle got sick when you were sleeping and his mother had to take him home."

Stan swore mentally; he told him he'd get him sick, but he would listen.

"He…got sick?"

"He did," Sharon crossed her arms, "and I told you not to do anything to get him sick."

"It's not my fault, dude. I was cold and he insisted on sleeping next to me."

"Well he's paying for it now," she said, "he's not coming to school today."

Stan rushed over to the Broflovski house, bringing nothing but his jacket with him. He didn't even bother changing out of his pajamas, so needless to say, Sheila gave him a look when he opened the door.

"Is Kyle ok?" He panted.

Sheila softened her expression, realizing that all Stan wanted to do was see her son.

"He's upstairs in bed," she said, "but don't get to close to him."

He nodded a thanks and rushed upstairs and into Kyle's bedroom.

Kyle was definitely sick alright. His cheeks were paler than usual and his eyes were puffy and lifeless, even if they were looking at Stan directly. It made Stan feel guilty, knowing he was the one who had brought that upon him.

"Uh…hey, dude," Stan started.

"Stan…" Kyle croaked, "I…hate…you."

He took one of his arms from under his sheets and weakly punched the healthy boy in attempt to get revenge. It didn't work out too well. Stan chuckled and ran a hand through his friend's hair.

"I thought you said you'd be immune to what I had."

"Yeah…but I didn't count on the fact that there are still colds that _I'm_ not yet immune to."

"Well…I'm immune to it now, and I know a good way to get you better fast."

Before Kyle could say anything, Stan was already pushing Kyle over and slipping into his bed. Once he secured himself in a comfortable spot, he brought Kyle to his chest and wrapped his arms around him tightly.

"Get some sleep, dude," Stan said, closing his eyes, "you'll be better by the end of the day, I promise."

Kyle snuggled tightly against Stan's chest, soaking in his warmth and falling asleep for the second time that day.

XX

Hey guys! Let's all go and get the swine flu so that we can be immune to it later on, sound good? Lol epic fail right there…it's good getting minor colds so you can be immune to it but CDC says letting yourself get the dreaded swine flu for that purpose is just plain stupid.


	9. Waltz

Mana here. Ugh…I'm having a crappy week, surrounded by crappy people. But on a better note, I have no more exams this year!!!! I just took the writing placement exam for the college I'm going to (because my SAT essay sucked balls according to them) and now I have no more exams…so happy. Final exams don't count because they're easy…first off let's think about the classes I actually have to study for….like…2. Two classes. Not hard, not hard. Ugh…I hate my school…so glad it's almost over. TWO WEEKS! YAAY!

For this fic, it was inspired by all the performances I have this week. I'm supposed to be playing violin for one of the elementary school choirs next week, for a Canadian folk song and I immediately thought of Ike. It's called A Great Big Sea and it sounds absolutely adorable…you should check it out =) Ike…he's gonna be one of those energetic little boys who's a freaking genius at school and at violin. Stan and Kyle are gonna be 16 here.

Waltz

When Stan went to study with Kyle that night, he expected the usual. Just plain, simple studying in the quiet setting of Kyle's room. But one thing that was different was the music playing from the next room over; Ike's room.

"What's with the music?" Stan asked Kyle once the stereo got progressively louder.

"Oh, Ike's got a new favorite composer," Kyle said, taking out his textbook, "Mozart."

Ike always had quite an interest in the likes of Mozart and classical music in general ever since he asked to learn the violin at age five. He fell in love with it immediately, and being the genius he was, he was able to play a lot of the simple works of Mozart by the time he hit elementary school and even got accepted to the Denver Youth Symphony Orchestra. Just last week Ike played Wieniawski's _Polonaise Brillante_ with piano accompaniment at a music competition. He did a great job and even placed in the top five, but he could never stop criticizing himself.

"Ergh! And I used a _martele_ stroke when I was supposed to use _staccato_! I'm so stupid!" He growled to himself on the drive home from Denver.

Classical music was something seldom to Stan. His family never listened to it so he knew so very little. But when he did get around to listening to some, it did sound pretty cool. He wondered why Kyle rarely told him about the happenings of Ike's violin career, but he could kind of understand his reason. Kyle wore an irritated expression as the main theme of the piece began to play. And just with it got to the fortissimo, Kyle slammed his pencil down.

"Mom! Could you tell Ike to turn it down? We're trying to study!"

"Oh, but Bubbi, Mozart's works have been proven to increase focus and intellect. It's good for you boys studying."

Kyle sighed, giving up and letting the music play. It was Mozart's 40th Symphony, first movement. He remembered it because Ike's youth orchestra had played it during a previous concert. It was a marvelous piece written by a genius, but since Kyle heard it so much from Ike practicing, he grew a little sick of it.

"Seriously, when he's not playing it on violin, he's playing it on the stereo," Kyle muttered, turning a page.

Stan didn't say anything; he didn't know what to say. He didn't know enough about classical music to make an educated statement.

Once that piece ended the next one started with an immediate bang. It was a happy sounding piece that was very driven and very upbeat. Stan recognized the style immediately.

"Waltz?" Stan asked. Even though he wasn't as exposed to classical music as Kyle was, he knew what a waltz was.

"Yup, _Frühlingsstimmen von Strauss_," Kyle answered in the most perfect German accent, "it's actually pretty cool."

Stan giggled at his pronunciation, earning himself a glare.

"Sorry," Stan said, "just I didn't think you of all people would be willing to like anything German after…you know."

Kyle smacked Stan lightly.

"Just because the Nazis did horrible stuff to us, doesn't mean we shunned everything German."

"I know," Stan said, his eyes shifting to the side, "I just figured that especially after everything Cartman's done to you…that you'd hate anything German."

"But I do like a lot of German things, you know?" Kyle said.

"Oh?"

"Yeah."

"Like what?"

"Well," Kyle counted off with his fingers, "the history's pretty fascinating. And some of the food's nice. And waltzes are pretty fun to dance too…"

"You can waltz, Kyle?" Stan asked, suddenly interested.

"Of course I can," he replied simply, "it's like the easiest style of dancing…for me at least."

Stan didn't dare make a "Jews don't have rhythm" crack, even though he figured that was what Kyle was inclining towards. During the very few dance performances they had, Stan knew Kyle couldn't follow a dance routine to save his life.

"You've danced before then?" He asked.

"Well…not formally. Sometimes when I'm alone I pretend someone's there and I just…dance."

Stan tried to picture Kyle dancing, but laughed slightly. How uncool, waltzing alone! Uncool? No, that wouldn't be the right word to use. He thought about it some more, the Jew sweeping about in his room at every downbeat, body erect, arms extended as if holding someone and a focused expression on his face. That actually looked pretty cute on the Jew.

"Dance with me, Stan," Kyle said, rising from his bed and extending his arm out to him, "the beat is perfect right now."

Before Stan could object, Kyle pulled him to his feet and placed his right hand on the taller boy's waist. This flustered Stan; he never imagined his best friend touching him that way! Such a smooth, soft touch, yet confident.

"Dude, I dunno I can't dance for crap," Stan began to pull away but Kyle didn't intend for him to leave so soon. He ignored Stan's discomfort and protests and went on with his dance lesson.

"Ok, just put your one hand right here," Kyle slid Stan's right hand up to his shoulder, "I'll steer, since I know how to."

"Steer?"

"I make all the steps, and you just have to keep up with me, ok?"

He lifted his left hand, gesturing for Stan to take it. He placed his hand in slowly, but Kyle had already secured a lock in it before Stan could make any movement.

But when Kyle found the appropriate downbeat to get off on, Stan found himself immediately swept off his own feet. Kyle moved pretty fast, which was probably because the music itself was pretty fast. Stan began to realize how happy and upbeat the piece was as Kyle put more bounce into his step. The way he maneuvered was very light and delicate, but at the same time strong, strong enough for Stan to follow him without tripping over his own feet.

The boys glided across the room as the _Frühlingsstimmen _continued to sing its heart out. Over time Stan became accustomed to the style of dancing and was able to keep up with Kyle every step of the way. As the piece reached the finale the music had become very fast-paced and Stan could sense Kyle getting out of breath.

Then when the piece ended, so did Kyle. Stan was a little thankful for this, since he was getting tired as well. Kyle collapsed onto his bed, taking deep breaths. Stan took a seat on the bed as well, giving a chance for his heart to catch up with itself.

"You dance beautifully," Kyle breathed into his sheets.

Stan blushed and felt just a little more flustered than he already was, if that was possible.

"I was just following you. I told you, I can't dance for shit," he said.

"No, no," Kyle sat up and faced Stan, "I felt like you should have been the one steering, you're very strong."

Stan smiled smugly. Secretly, he always liked being praised.

"I'll steer next time, but you have to wear one of those ballroom gowns so we get a better effect."

Kyle raised an eyebrow.

"How would me wearing a gown give a better effect?"

"You know…" Stan's eyes shifted to the side again, "like when the music picks up and the guy sweeps the girl off her feet and her dress whooshes elegantly around…like in Beauty and the Beast, you know?"

Kyle looked dumbstruck for a second and the erupted into rolls of laughter. The fact that Stan actually admitted to something like that! Something so graceful and elegant that Kyle never would have imagined to be comprehended by Stan's mind, which was always full of sports and tough things like that.

"What?" Stan blushed at his friend's laughter.

"You…" Kyle put a hand on his shoulder, "…my God, you're something else."

"I think you'd look pretty in a dress," Stan said, now cornering on Kyle.

Kyle smirked at him, trying his best not to laugh.

"Prettier than Wendy?"

Stan didn't say anything at that. He couldn't, just by looking at his face. Instead he lifted his hand and rested it on Kyle's chin. It was Kyle's turn to be flustered, as Stan pulled his face closer. Kyle stared deeply into his deep blue eyes that seemed to be drawing him in with every thin breath he took. It drew him closer, and closer…

"Kyle! Kyle!!" A panicked voice shot through the silence that filled his room his and the bedroom door was slammed open. Kyle snapped away from Stan's enticing touch and came face to face with his little brother.

"Goddammit," Kyle brushed himself off and straightened out his shirt, trying to look at his brother seriously, "haven't you heard of knocking?"

"Dude this is serious!"

His expression lightened at his brother's tone. He sounded so panicked, and his eyes looked urgent. Was something the matter? What was so serious that demanded his urgent attention?

"What is it?"

"I need you to get a CD for me. I just heard Bach's G minor solo violin concerto on the radio and I'm in love!"

Kyle face-palmed. The only thing stopping him from strangling Ike right there was the fact that he'd rat him out to Sheila.

"Ok fine. Get your coat."

He let out a high giggle of joy and sped out of the room.

"Goddamn little brothers," he mumbled.

He rose from his side of the bed to get his coat when a tight grip on his arm prevented him from going any further. He turned, and Stan had been holding him back.

"Sta—" Kyle started, but was interrupted by Stan's lips on his.

It was a chaste kiss, not too long, but not to short to not get enough of it.

"I hate not finishing what I start," Stan said as he stood up to get his coat, "now come on, your brother's waiting."

Kyle heard his bedroom door creak open and Stan leaving, but he didn't move. He brushed his fingers against his lips, his cheeks turning slightly pink.

"Hey wait…Stan? STAN!" Kyle blushed, "you can't just—"

But Stan was nowhere in sight. He was already out of the house for that matter, waiting at the car with Ike.

XX

The _Polonaise Brillante_…I was going to play that for senior recitals at my old school. But sadly my school now doesn't offer that.


	10. Trust

Mana here. My God, it's the last week of school already?? Gasp…that was quick. And to think I'm gonna be graduating in three weeks…scary thought. Though I must say, if it wasn't for South Park, this school year would have totally sucked. Like seriously…I'd be in a mental institute, begging to transfer back to Colorado. I started watching SP in October and I got into the fandom by November and let me say, this has made my life a lot better.

This I wrote in the library during a class meeting that I wasn't supposed to attend. Super sweet! And I'm happy…I got to do this without harassment from library Nazis!! How? Oh…I'm a Nazi too…=P Not really, but my great uncle gave medical treatment to a Nazi in World War II, does that count?

Trust

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Stan asked as he began unbuttoning Kyle's crisp, white t-shirt.

Kyle made no respond to the touch; he was too focused on his own fear to feel anything at the moment. Instead, he just shivered at the tension.

"This is a big mistake, Stan," Kyle said nervously, "we should just stop right now."

"Come on," Stan cooed, "it's what you said you always wanted."

"Yeah, but not like this!" Kyle hissed, "the circumstances are a lot different."

Stan smiled and shook his head. There was no way Kyle's protests would stop him from having fun. He slipped Kyle's shirt off his back, leaving the poor boy blushing. But as Kyle got over himself, he took a chance to feel the cool mountain air brush against his bare chest. It was a nice breeze but because of the nervousness his was already feeling, it just causing him to shiver even more. Then Stan then brought Kyle's hands to the front of his shirt, telling him to unbutton him. Kyle went on about it shakily, but then stopped as he got to the third button.

"I—I…" Kyle stuttered.

"What's wrong?"

"I really can't do this, Stan. I'm sorry."

He let go of Stan's shirt and turned quickly in the opposite direction, heart pounding. As he dropped himself to retrieve his own shirt, Stan grabbed his arm forcefully and pulled him back up. His annoyance turned soft when he saw the feared look in Kyle's eyes.

"Hey now," Stan said gently, "what are you afraid of?"

Kyle gulped hard and blinked the tears away from his eyes.

"What my mom might do to us if she finds out!"

"I'll tell her it was all me," he said.

"She's not gonna take that, you know! No matter what happens, she'll always find some way to blame me!"

"Then we're both going down together," he said, rubbing his naked back, "and don't you say anything. You promised this, remember?"

Kyle picked himself back up.

"I guess…" he looked over to the black-haired boy, who was smiling at him. This made him smile a little as well.

"That's a good boy," he teased, ruffling his hair, "now undress me."

Kyle let out a tiny giggle as his hands went up back to Stan's chest. He resumed the unbuttoning where he left off, this time less shaky and a lot quicker. Stan smiled at this; Kyle's confidence always made him happy. Then Kyle slipped off Stan's shirt as he had done to him, tossing it to the ground next to his.

"Ready?" Stan patted him on the back.

"Yeah, come on," Kyle took him by the hand. Only dressed in their jeans, they both approached their designated spot; at the base of the steep ledge.

Stan blinked, just now realizing what was going to happen, what they were about to do. He took a deep breath and backed away slowly.

"Something wrong?" Kyle asked him.

"Dude, we don't have anything to protect us with," he said in a higher voice, "what if something happens?"

"Nothing's gonna happen," Kyle smiled, "you said it yourself."

"Yeah, but that was before…" he trailed off.

"Stan! Don't flake now! You just got me all fired up."

"I'm sorry! I'm just…having second thoughts about this."

"Are you scared?"

Stan took a sharp intake of breath, closing his eyes. Kyle put his hand to his chest and felt his heart beating erratically.

"Come on Stan, there's nothing to worry about," he said, "don't you trust me?"

Stan nodded quietly.

"And I trust you. So if you're going down, then I'm going with you, ok?"

Stan smiled at the familiar words.

"Ok, dude."

The air whooshed around them motherly. It kissed their bare flesh sweetly and assured them that nothing bad will happen. At this, they felt confident and proceeded to do what they came to do. Then Kyle looked down, and his stomach did a tiny flip.

"Now that you think about it, it does look like a long way down from here," he said.

And Stan agreed. The clear blue lake at the base of the ledge seemed like a thousand feet away when they were standing at the top. It didn't seem like that before though, when they were at the bottom of the ledge and looking up at it.

"We can do it," he assured Kyle, "we're awesome, remember?"

"Yeah…" Kyle trailed.

Stan felt Kyle's warmth centering on his hand. He looked to the Jew and sure enough he had taken his hand. But it didn't feel strange. In fact, it felt like the most natural motion in the world, like it had been there since the beginning of time.

"Just in case," Kyle said, smiling insecurely.

Stan chuckled and laced his fingers in between Kyle's, causing him to blush.

"Yeah…" he said, "just in case."

The two looked around the forest area one last time before looking at each other. Stan could clearly see the fear in Kyle's eyes, even though the said Jew was smiling.

"Kyle, could you promise me one thing?" Stan asked.

"Sure, dude."

"Promise me…that no matter what happens…we'll always be best friends."

Kyle squeezed his hand gently.

"_Super_ best friends, you mean."

Stan laughed.

"Yeah…that's what I meant."

"Of course, dude."

And suddenly, the ledge and the height of it didn't seem as scary.

"Well, let's get this over with," Kyle said, "before we get into any more trouble."

"Ready?"

Kyle nodded and took a deep breath.

"One," Kyle breathed.

"Two," Stan gripped Kyle's hand tighter.

"THREE!" They both screamed in unison and flung themselves from the ledge.

The fall was quick and sudden. Both boys screamed out as the adrenaline shot up their veins during the first six feet of the fall, but then their screams turned into wild laughter of thrill as they dropped faster and faster. Eventually they hit the water in a resounding splash but their hands were still gripped together. The water was surprisingly cold for a warm time in May.

When everything had settled down, Stan stood up in the shallow part of the lake, the traces of water on is chest, face and hair glistening in the sun. Kyle tried to stand up on his own like Stan but his waterlogged pants weighed him down greatly, sending him falling back into the water. Stan simply laughed.

"Here," he extended his arm to Kyle, who gripped it with both hands and pulled himself up.

Kyle brushed himself off as best he could, flicking off unnecessary amounts of water out of his hair. It hung limply around his face though evidence of his curls were starting to spring back to life.

"So," Stan started, "you had fun?"

Kyle stepped forward and gave Stan the biggest hug ever, but was careful to not push him in the water.

"That was so…awesome!" Kyle squealed into Stan's wet chest. Stan laughed again and returned Kyle's hug with a big one of his own.

Kyle babbled on and on about the experience, about the adrenaline rush and the thrill and everything else after that. And all Stan did was smile at him as he spoke. He was happy that his super best friend had let go of the feelings earlier, the feelings of fear and uncertainty. And he was also happy that his own fears were lifted.

"That was seriously the greatest thing you've ever dragged me into," Kyle said, patting Stan's arm.

Stan didn't mention that it was him who insisted on cliff diving, but that was ok. After all, it was Stanley who pushed Kyle into going through with that. He looked into Kyle's eyes and they were happy.

"Wanna go again, buddy?"

Stan didn't wait for an answer; he already started pulling on Kyle's arm, dragging him to the ledge once again. But Kyle didn't resist. He didn't even make one word about what his mother would say once the school called, telling her that her son was absent. Just being with Stan, doing crazy things like cliff diving made Kyle so happy that he wouldn't give a damn if he got sick from the cold or would have to be grounded or even getting detention for ditching.

XX

I hate heights and I especially hate falling, so I will never be able to do this. Even if I did have my super best friend with me. The only thing I was able to do with the kind help of my super best friend was go on Space Mountain at Disneyland, but I had my eyes closed the whole time, so I didn't really experience the thrill.


	11. Yearbook

Mana here. Well, I'm not longer a high school student. Last day was on Friday. Mark your calendars for June 10th, for it is the day I graduate. I want all of you to come, no exceptions!!! Lolol jk. All in all I felt I was cheated senior year, having to change schools and graduate with a class I barely know…but it was a good experience for me. I did a lot of growing up this year, and I am very proud of myself for that. Consider this an early graduation present from me =)

Warning about this fic, it's gonna get pretty slashy. Just so you know, if you're not comfortable with that sort of thing =P

Yearbook

The last day of school was always a time for great happiness and celebration. The last day of senior year, however was very special. Throughout the halls of South Park High, girls were crying and clinging onto each other, boys were cheering. Almost everyone at South Park High had known each other since preschool, and it was a pretty emotional time for them. Soon they'll all be going their separate ways, living separate futures. It was sad, yes, but at the same time very exciting.

"Oh my God, we only have three days of school left!" Stan had just hi-fived a fellow football player as he was talking to Kyle, Cartman and Kenny.

"I know," Kyle said, "I can't believe we're graduating already."

"Yeah…" Stan trailed off, reflection senior year. It was a good year for him; he was the quarterback and captain of the football team, who with his efforts won the national championships in the fall. He felt that was his best moment ever, receiving lots of praises once that winning touchdown was made. Yeah, this year was definitely a good one.

His fantasy however was broken by Kyle's happy voice.

"Stan, Cartman, Kenny," Kyle said, "gimmie your yearbooks. I wanna be the first to sign them!"

Stan willingly passed his yearbook in to his red-haired friend. No doubt he'll leave him a sweet message, and he wanted to do the same.

Kyle opened the first yearbook in front of him, Stan's. He wanted nothing else right now than to be the first person who had even touched a clean, white page in his best friend's yearbook. He took out a green fine-point Sharpie from his pencil bag and wrote:

_To my superstar:_

_Wow, graduation already? I can't believe that once we walk down that isle, receive that diploma and shake hands with Mr. Garrison, Mr. Mackey and Principal Victoria that we have completed all twelve years of informal education. We'll be adults now, members of society. It is a scary thought, but when is life ever _not_ scary?_

_Fourteen years ago upon meeting you was probably my first nervous experience. Of course, we were just babies, but even then you still had the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen, and the blackest hair and the creamiest skin. And when you spoke, your voice was perfect, so precise. You made even the dirtiest of words sound like music. I knew from that instant that we were meant to be, but there were a lot of things that made me nervous about our beginning friendship. Will this other boy like me as much as I like him? Will he hate me? What if I do something to offend him, even just by accident…will he still want to hold hands with me and sleep in the same naptime mat as me and eat at the same snack table with me? _

_That question was answered during the time I first felt the sharp sting of Cartman's sadistic tongue. At this point I can't remember what the fatass said, but I just remember it was really mean and it hurt a whole lot. I was crying. I sat by myself in the back of the classroom, in attempt to conceal myself, because the last things I needed were one, Cartman to find me and make fun of me for crying like a little pussy or two, the teacher finding me and calling my parents…embarrassing! But you found me anyway, with a concerned look on your cute face. You didn't say anything; you just reached out and I threw myself into your chest. I felt better instantly, and it was all you to thank for that. What made it even better was that you let me have the blue frosting on your cupcake during snack time. My mother was furious when I had to be rushed to the emergency room for my first diabetic coma, but it was all worth it._

_Then when we began elementary school, we had even more fun. Except this time instead of being confined to our parents' schedules, we did a lot more things on our own, with the other guys. We went on adventures, sometimes getting hurt along the way, but in the end everything fixed itself and things went on as normal. Haha, we were so young those days. It's hard to imagine where all the years disappeared. Sometimes, I kick myself looking back on the stupid shit we did, like trying to cancel Family Guy, and devoting six months to WoW, and stealing other kids' teeth to make money. I kick myself harder, remembering that it was Cartman who came with those ideas and I actually agreed to going on about it. But you were there with me, so it wasn't so bad._

_Then middle school came, which was probably the most stressful time in my life. Like every other young man at that age, I was stricken by the maladies and insecurities that came with puberty. You stopped hanging out with Kenny, Cartman and I to go on and explore the "other side of the playground." You formed a relationship with Wendy Testaburger, and I felt it was all over. You didn't want me around anymore, you found someone else to make you smile. I was feeling lonely; sure I had the other guys with me, but I missed your company a great deal. It was like you abandoned me…I felt more hurt than I have ever felt in my entire life._

_Nothing changed Freshman year. You were still going out with Wendy, and you even were offered a spot in her clique. I don't mean to say Wendy is a bad person, heavens no. She is a very sweet girl, but I unconsciously saw her as an enemy for taking you away. Then during the middle of that year she broke up with you. This gave me an excuse to hate her even more, for breaking your heart like that. You cried, and instinctively I was there for you, like a best friend should be. But now I feel like an asshole for taking advantage of your hurt…ah well, you're better now, aren't you?_

_Fortunately we patched things up once high school came along, and everything went back to the way it was when we were younger. We went on our adventures, except this time we experimented with more "big boy" things. I swear, I'll never do that again _ I never had quite the stomach and fortitude for alcohol and I don't think I want to build it up any time soon._

_It was around the beginning sophomore year when I realized I had feelings for you. I wondered to myself why I was so pissed off when you went with Wendy but then it hit me. I had a massive crush on you for the longest time, and it took one insult from Cartman for me to realize that. I guess it's really thanks to Cartman that we're together, but you know I'll never admit that to him. That day, after the homecoming football game, I told you straight out about my feelings. I was so scared; I just wanted my heart to leap out of my chest and kill me then. But instead of rejecting me and hurting me like a normal high school football player, you took me into your arms and held me tight. My God, what you said to me was such a blur, but the only thing I could remember you saying was that you had a crush on me for the longest time and telling me to stop crying because my face is much too beautiful to have even one tear stain it. _

_And if that wasn't enough, then it was probably that kiss that totally blew me away. Heh, I was spending that entire game planning out what I was going to say to you and preparing myself for your rejection, so you can imagine how I felt. I was not prepared for that and if I didn't love you, I'd be pretty pissed off at you for doing that._

_The next three years have been the best. The lunches we've spent holding hands underneath the table, the football games I'd make you sneak away from during half-time, and best of all those countless nights I've laid in your arms, drenched in our sweat and stamina. Of course, we weren't allowed to tell anyone else about "us." Maybe just Kenny, because he's been down that path himself with Butters. Imagine it, Kenny and Butters! Those two are adorable 3 but not as much as us =P I think Wendy kinda found out as well. She tossed me a wink the other day; I'm just glad she's not the type who'd blab. But Cartman can never know about us. I can't believe we've kept it from him; from anyone else, for so long…he really is stupid for not seeing the signs. Kenny even said once that we're "so Goddamn obvious." I was thinking of pulling you into a very hot and very wet kiss in front of Cartman during graduation, just to see the look on his fat little face. Oh, we should do it, Stan! _

_I want to now take this moment before I run out of room to thank you for everything you've done for me. All my life, you have been my super hero. You always knew how to make me smile when I was crying, and you always made everything better. You held my hand during the roughest times in my life and during the not-so-rough times. Promise me we'll have the best summer ever and the best college life. Although we will be attending the same university, I cannot follow you on your career path. However as your super best boyfriend, I only wish you the best and brightest future filled with many opportunities and great successes._

_With all the love in my heart,  
Kyle_

Kyle smiled as he scribbled in his signature and blew on the page to dry the ink. Perfect. He closed Stan's yearbook to move on to Cartman's but when he saw the cover, his stomach flipped. The name plate did not say Stanley Marsh.

Instead, it read Eric Theodore Cartman.

Eric Theodore Cartman.

Eric Theodore _fucking_ Cartman in fat, bold, golden letters.

"SHIT!" Kyle screeched.

But before Kyle had the chance to rip off the nameplates of Stan's and Cartman's yearbooks and switch them, a chubby hand reached down and grabbed the filled-up book from Kyle's lap.

"Took ya long enough, you stupid Jew!" He said in a mocked impatient tone.

He stuffed his yearbook into his Northface backpack and went off into the lunch line for seconds of that chocolate fudge cake he was so very fond of. Kyle meanwhile paled from the forehead down.

"What's wrong?" Stan asked him, "you feeling sick?"

"Stan," Kyle said, "you don't mind switching yearbooks with Cartman, do you?"

At first Stan looked a little confused as to why Kyle would ask for such. But he remembered watching Kyle write in that one yearbook all through lunch, realizing that he would never go through that much effort for Cartman's sake.

"Yeah, sure dude," Stan smiled and planted a kiss on top of his head before rushing after Cartman.

XX

Fortunately that's never happened to me before. God, I think I'd kill myself X.X

For the record, one of the only reasons I've kept a strong composure and survived senior year was South Park. All the episodes, fanfics, and epic pics found on DeviantArt really made me smile.


	12. Roach

Mana here. ACK I AM SO SORRY!!! It's been one Goddamn month since I last updated…I'm on summer break now, and I've taken the time to be lazy. I'm sorry…ech….Those of you who have subscribed to this, I'm so sorry, and if you're reading it, thank you for putting up with my incompetence.  
On another note, I finally found the lyrics to the DUTCH (not German) version of Barbie Girl and at first I was all O_O? and then I lol'd XD  
OH and I got a dA account. It's www. ricexcracker. deviantart. com I want to post some of my fanfics soon but I'm not sure…mainly because I don't know how to upload fanfics xD I'll figure out soon though.

This fic here is based on…yet another one of my fears. Last summer when I was in the Philippines there was suddenly a lot of cockroaches and they were scary =( I was asleep on the floor (because that's how we sleep in the Philippines cuz we're HARDCORE like that) and then I wake up and hear a clicky sound and then next to me there was a cockroach on its back trying to get up and I was all O_O I'm going upstairs…

Roach

A warm Summer night was rare for South Park. On June days when the snow would melt and the day would be pleasant for wearing shorts, it was almost always expected that once the sun went down, the climate would convert back to its usual cold temperatures. But no, not tonight. As a result, Kyle had his window open to help ventilate his bedroom, since it had gotten a little stuffy during the day.

"It's so hot," Stan flopped on Kyle's bed wearing a white cotton T-shirt and plaid blue boxers.

Kyle, who had on an identical white T-shirt but plaid red boxers, collapsed next to Stan on his bed.

"Should I go downstairs and get us some lemonade?" He asked his super best friend.

"That would be awesome."

And Kyle left his room at once. Stan smiled quietly and turned over on Kyle's bed, breathing in the scent Kyle left on his pillow. It smelled just like him, a warm and happy mixture of saffron and strawberry. Although the air was hot, the warmth of Kyle's scent didn't bother him the slightest.

But Stan didn't have long to bury himself in Kyle's essence, for Kyle had just come bounding back upstairs into the room.

"Hey Stan mom didn't have lemonade so I have Kool—" Kyle stopped abruptly at his bedroom's threshold. "SHIT!"

Adrenaline rushed through Stan upon Kyle's profane outburst as he turned to face him

"What's up?"

Kyle's fearful eyes were fixated on the ceiling of his bedroom, right above Stan's head. Curious, Stan threw a glance in that direction, and then began to realize what was frightening the Jewish boy so much.

A cockroach. A brown cockroach about an inch and a half long laid perched above the ceiling next to Kyle's window.

_I didn't notice that there before,_ Stan thought to himself. It probably came in through the window when Kyle left. It sat there and stayed still. A very eerie sight.

Stan knew Kyle hated any insect of any sort, with the exception of butterflies (due to the fact they pertained to the Holocaust and were symbolic to the Jewish people) and Kyle hated roaches the most. They were dirty, vile disgusting creatures. They appeared at the dirtiest places, but the last place one would appear would be in Kyle's room, let alone Kyle's house, since Sheila was very particular about cleanliness.

Stan on the other hand didn't mind most insects, except for the varieties that stung or bit. So nonetheless, he didn't feel anything towards the roach in Kyle's room; roaches were completely harmless, just like ladybugs, except bigger with a less attractive exterior.

"Eww," Kyle shuddered as one of the roach's antennas probed the air.

"It's just a little guy," Stan said, "remember that one we saw at Kenny's? It was a lot bigger than this guy right here."

"I know, but that's Kenny's house," he made a face, "and it was still creepy."

"Want me to get it for you?"

Stan stood up on Kyle's bed and approached the window. It was already open, so an exit for the "little guy" wasn't too difficult, and he'll ease Kyle's fears in no time. But as Stan brought his hand up to capture it, it spread its wings and flew.

"JESUS!" Kyle shrieked as it flew in his direction.

In a panicked dodge, he dove to his right, clumsily knocking Stan off the bed. They both hit the floor with a thud.

"Shit dude, I didn't know they can fly!" Kyle said as Stan helped him up.

"Yeah, you didn't know that?"

"No, I…wait, where did it go?"

Stan scanned the area for the whereabouts of the roach. The window was open, it probably escaped already. Then a gasp from Kyle suggested otherwise. Stan turned to his best friend and sure enough the roach was perched on his shoulder, trying to keep a steady grip.

"Whoa, there it is," Stan said pointing to Kyle's shoulder.

Kyle froze.

"It's not… on me, is it?"

"Yeah dude, it's on you. On your shoulder, right there." Stan couldn't help laughing a bit.

"Get it off me, Stan," his voice quavered.

"Aww he just wants to be your friend," Stan cooed.

But he picked up the insect from Kyle's shoulder, holding down firmly to its back so it doesn't fly again.

"That's so gross, Stan," Kyle made a face, "you don't know where the hell's that been."

Stan shrugged.

"I think he's cool though," he said, "did you know they could live for months without heads?"

"Dude, that's fucked up."

"That's not fucked up, that's sweet."

"Ew that's sick...just throw it out the window, already. Come on."

Stan didn't know what came over him, but he didn't want to let him off just yet. He thought he'd have a little fun with it first...

"Come on it's not that sick, Ky. It's just like a ladybug, only bigger and brown; here, touch it."

"I don't wanna touch it."

"Aww come on Ky! If you touch it you won't be scared anymore."

"NO!"

Kyle's eyes grew wide with terror as Stan held the insect close to his face.

"Give him a kiss!"

But Kyle violently pushed Stan away from him with tears in his eyes.

"JUST GET RID OF IT ALREADY!" He wailed.

Stan, realizing he's just crossed the line between teasing and terrorizing, threw the vile insect out the window. He shut the glass quickly, in case it had taken flight and decided to re-enter the room. Once satisfied, he turned back to find Kyle glaring at him while trying desperately to wipe his eyes.

"Dude, shit, I'm sorry," he approached his best friend, wrapping his arms around him. "Are you ok?"

Kyle rejected Stan's embrace with a shove.

"What the hell was that, Stan? Those things are so disgusting, you know how much I hate them!"

"I know…it's just fun watching you all scared and stuff," he chuckled, "it's like…when you're scared I can make it all better."

"It would feel that way, if you weren't the one causing me to be scared!" Kyle growled.

"Dude, ok I'm sorry. Hey, want me to make it up to you and sneak us out and buy us ice cream?"

Kyle smiled, feeling instantly better. Maybe it was worth it; Stan could scare him all he wanted, but in the end, he'd always be there to pick up the pieces.

XX

Mm…I don't feel particularly good about this, especially the ending. Too much dialogue, not enough description. I really suck at writing right now…I seem to be better during the winter months, when it's cold. It's easier to get into the feeling of South Park when it's cold xD but now it's really hot…I live in central California, and one could imagine what _that's_ like.

But yeah, maybe if roaches were pink with green polka dots and smelled like cake I wouldn't be very scared of them =/


	13. Fireworks

Mana here. I wrote this for the 4th of July, (happy birthday America!! Wow 233 years…) but being ze lazy fuck that I am, I didn't post it until today xD I had a kickass 4th…not a big fan of fireworks (loud noises scare me) but took my iPod and played La Resistance when I was blowing up fireworks in my backyard and it made it not as scary ^^ In fact, La Resistance plus fireworks equals epicness. You should try it, I dare you.

Anyway…I don't know, _Cartman_ said fireworks were illegal in Colorado but when I lived there I set them off and no one said anything. And those were the awesome roadside stand fireworks too, the ones that would shoot high up and trickle sweetly down…

Fireworks

After the city's pyrotechnics let off the last of the fireworks with a bang, the citizens resumed their outdoor activities or retreated back indoors. South Park's Fourth of July celebration wasn't the most exciting thing out there, but the flashing colors and loud bangs were a change from the usual mundane atmosphere.

However for Stan and Kyle, the fun were not over just yet. Despite the coldness of the night, they had settled atop the roof of Stan's house to view the show, hoping this year it would be a good one. But like every year, they were disappointed.

"I hate how they make them so short every Goddamn year," Stan sighed as he reclined against the brick of the chimney. He had just come back up from his room to retrieve his usual brown jacket, for he had gotten a little bit chilly.

"Seriously!" a white T-shirt-clad Kyle retorted, "just because that retard from North Park got his hands blown up that one time it doesn't mean they gotta curb fireworks on _all_ of Park County!"

"Well it can't be helped," Stan said, "but that's ok. I got these."

Stan grinned as he held up a handful of sticks, all with shiny paper at the tip. Kyle recognized them immediately to be morning glory sparklers.

"Whoa dude, where'd you get those?" Kyle asked him. The only place anyone could find fireworks like those were at the roadside stands along the mountain. But those stands usually priced very high.

"Kevin Stoley," he replied simply, "he got a whole bunch of them from when he went to China last month."

"Damn, how'd he sneak them into the country?"

"I don't know, but let's try them. I hear Chinese fireworks are like a thousand times better than the American ones."

"I don't know dude," Kyle said nervously, "everyone can see it from your roof. And fireworks _are_ illegal in Colorado…"

"Dude, we got away with a lot of shit before. Hell, _Cartman's_ even gotten away with killing Scott Tenorman's parents! I think fireworks would be the least of South Park's worries."

Kyle nodded, as a very valid point was taken.

"Alright, let's do this."

Stan took an individual sparkler out as well as a lighter from his pocket and lit the tip. The fuse burned quickly and the first sparks began to show.

"Awesome!" Stan's face lit up as the sparkler began to show its true colors. White, gold and even pink sparks emitted forth, creating small crackling sounds that can only be heard from a sparkler.

Kyle smiled at the show, admiring the bright colors.

"Wanna hold it?" Stan asked him.

"Nah it's cool," Kyle said, "you can hold onto it for now, I'll do the next one."

The two continued to interest themselves in the sparkler, which was now letting off sparks furiously as it reached its end. Eventually it died out and Stan reached for another one.

"You said you wanted to do the next one, Ky?" He asked.

Kyle nodded and took the firework from Stan. Stan lit the tip of that one, and sparks began to fly.

"Whoa, dude!" Kyle's eyes grew wide as that particular sparkler began emitting sparks faster than the last one. They flew in various directions and danced vividly into the night.

Kyle wasn't used to sparklers or any other firework as Stan. Kyle's mother always deemed them as "unsafe" and "deadly" and never let her babies anywhere near the stuff. In fact, she was on the city board that called for minimal firework activities during this year's celebration for fear of anymore children getting hurt.

But Kyle always felt that Sheila over exaggerated things and tried his best to look excited as the sparkler he was holding was performing. Then a hot, sharp sensation pierced the bare skin of his forearm, causing the Jewish boy to cry out in pain.

"OW!" Kyle dropped the firework onto the tar of the roof, where it rolled away.

Stan, in shock, dropped a sparkler he was about to light up and turned to see what was up with his best friend. Kyle held his arm out for both to inspect, and sure enough there was a spot on his arm that was quickly becoming all red and puffy.

"Did a spark get you?" Stan asked.

Kyle may have nodded, but Stan didn't notice it. He was busy taking off his jacket.

"Put this on," he said, giving his jacket to Kyle, "protect your arms."

Kyle blushed when Stan draped the jacket over Kyle's shoulders; Stan had been wearing it and his scent was evident within the cloth.

"What about you?" He asked, "I heard the sparks burn at over 2000 degrees, and they really hurt."

Stan smirked.

"You scream pretty loud, I don't want people to think I'm molesting you or something when you get burned."

"Dude!" Kyle punched Stan's shoulder.

"Truth is," he smiled, "you look good in it. My jacket, I mean."

Kyle blushed.

"Don't say things like that, Stan!"

"Why?" He crept closer and closer to Kyle until he could feel his nervous breaths against his skin.

"S-Stan?"

Stan didn't speak. He brought his hand up to the Jew's now blatantly red cheek and ran his fingers lightly, causing him to shiver.

"It's the truth, you know…" he whispered breathily into his ear.

Kyle couldn't take it anymore.

"STAN QUIT IT!" He shrieked and pushed the black haired boy away with more force than last time.

"Dude, you know I'm just teasing!" Stan brought himself back up to his sitting position, "I didn't know you were so uncomfortable by it."

"It's not that it's _uncomfortable_…" Kyle mumbled, staring off to the distance.

Stan took a look at Kyle's face and knew immediately what was up. He wrapped his arms around his smaller frame and held him tightly to his chest.

"How about now? You feeling better?"

Kyle smiled in Stan's T-shirt induced warmth.

"Mmm…kinda."

Stan smiled in returned and buried is face in Kyle's hair. They stayed like that for a while until Kyle jerked up.

"Holy shit!" He gasped, pushing Stan away from him.

"What?" Stan asked, adrenaline rushing in at the suddenness.

"Your tree is on fire!"

XX

Lol don't leave fireworks unattended, mmkay? Leaving fireworks unattended is bad, mmkay? Mmkay.

Kevin Stoley is Chinese…I hope T^T Perhaps he was adopted…SP said his parents are Chinese, so I can assume he was adopted by people named Stoley…right?? AHH I just want there to be at least one Asian kid in SP so I can make fun of him!! -istotallynotracistatall-


	14. Football

Mana here. Dude...sorry for the wait. Well, summer's almost over for me. I move into the university September 19…am I happy? You bet! All summer I've been spending more time in the house than Aung San Suu Kyi, so I'm bored as fuck. But it's not too horrible, since I'm RPing =D Damien and Christophe, you two make me so happy!!

This I wrote because Stan and Kyle are just so cute. Once I start college I'll probably be writing more as a means of getting myself out of the stress. Christ I'm taking calculus, chemistry and international studies for the first quarter.

Football

After the clock struck three, students rushed out of their classrooms and to their lockers, eager to get home. No, it was not Friday; it was Tuesday as a matter of fact, and September. Despite the fresh start of the new school year, South Park High went under little to no change; the same people, the same building and the same boring routine.

Kyle of course, submitted to that daily routine; get out of class, go to locker, pick up Ike, go home. Nothing special about today.

"Hey Kyle wanna come to my house with me and Butters and then to Shakey's tonight?"

Kyle turned around to find Kenny with Butters in tow. Butters, as usual, was looking timid and rubbing his knuckles together while Kenny was sporting a big grin. He smiled to himself and shook his head.

"Nah, it's cool."

"Hm? Why? You love coming to my house."

"Well…I'll feel like a third wheel…you know, with you two as best friends now and me just…me."

Kenny raised an eyebrow and erupted into laughter.

"What are you trying to say? Of course you're not a third wheel, dude. We love you, don't we Butters?

At this Kenny wrapped his arms around the Jew boldly and nuzzled cheek, encouraging Butters to do the same. Butters grinned apologetically at Kyle and gave him a hug as well, though he was mostly just hugging Kenny.

"Yeah sure…" Kyle said, pushing Kenny away, "but really. I gotta pick up Ike from school and you know how he gets when I'm even one minute late."

Kenny shrugged.

"Ok that's fine. But you're still coming with us to Shakey's. You're always alone after school these days and I feel like everyone's all broken apart."

Kyle nodded in agreement. Once the boys got to high school, Stan had immediately joined the football team and Cartman, surprisingly converting all his fat into muscle that summer, made it as a defense on the team. Kyle was discouraged by his mother to do sports or any other extracurriculars and was subjected to pure study because if he didn't get into Harvard and become a lawyer, he'd be in trouble. As a result, this left Kenny all alone, and Butters as well, so they teamed up and realized they had a lot more in common than they thought.

"It's cool, Kenny," Kyle said, closing his locker door, "you two just enjoy yourselves, alright? I gotta pick up Ike from school anyway…you know what he's like when I'm late.

Kenny nodded and disappeared with Butters out the door.

Kyle chuckled quietly to himself while fixing the strap on his messenger bag. Now that the halls were clear Kyle decided to set off to the old elementary school. He knew the route by heart, and he was pretty sure Ike knew the route from the school to home as well. But despite that, it was always Kyle's duty to watch over his baby brother, no matter how safe things may seem.

It was a beautiful autumn day out in South Park. Cool, crisp and surrounded by warm reds, oranges, and yellows from the leaves that fell. Kyle passed by the football field as he did everyday on his way home from school. The route by way of the football field was a lot nicer; there were more trees in that area with more warm colors. And if he was lucky he'd get a glimpse of Stan practicing football.

Kyle blushed. There was nothing more beautiful than Stan playing football. The way he would command the team during the kickoff, announcing which play they would use. The way he would throw the ball to the receiver. The way he would tackle an opponent to prevent him from advancing. And especially the satisfied, refreshed look on his face when the cool autumn wind would blow through his hair after he took his helmet off.

Today was a day of practice for the South Park High football team, as their big game was coming up against the rival school. So naturally, they were working hard to make sure that they would win this. Kyle gazed for a while over to the field, only to find Cartman yelling at everyone.

"You guys, seriouslah!" He roared, "North Park is gonna beat our asses on Saturday unless you assholes learn how to fucking get your shit together!"

"GODDAMMIT CARTMAN YOU'RE NOT THE COACH OR EVEN THE CAPTAIN SO SHUT THE FUCK UP!" The coach roared back.

Kyle laughed. Although Cartman had become a lot more handsome, he still clung onto his controlling, asshole-ish behavior.

Then suddenly Kyle found himself with a football in his arms. He stood struck for a second; where did this come from all of the sudden? How did it manage to land perfectly in his arms? But before he could conjure anymore questions a strong force plummeted the Jewish boy to the ground and rested his entire weight on him.

He was too much in shock to interject anything, so instead he looked up at the offender and found that it was Stan. Stan, who was panting and covered in sweat, had Kyle's shoulders pinned to the ground with a victorious grin on his face.

"Whoa, dude!" Kyle managed to breathe out.

He couldn't hide the fact that he was blushing madly. Stan just laughed.

"Thought you could get a few more yards, eh Kyle?" Stan asked, mocking a sneer.

Kyle raised his eyebrow and burst into laughter.

"Dude I'm not even playing!"

"Sure. And then once I have my guard down you're gonna to ahead and score a touchdown, aren't you?" He said, shoving Kyle's shoulders further into the ground.

Kyle, still giggling, tried to force himself off of Stan's grip, but Stan was way too strong to give in.

"Goddamn dude let me go!"

"But I'm having so much fun!"

Kyle pouted cutely. How could _this_—being trapped under the entire weight of the super hot quarterback while trying not to make it obvious that it is secretly enjoyable—be fun?

"Ay! Stop making out with Kahl! We need to practice, asswipe!" Cartman bellowed from the twenty yard line, red-faced and seriouslah pissed off, "you wanna get your ass raped by the North Park assholes?"

Kyle laughed uneasily.

"I think you're needed, Stan," he said.

Stan laughed, shaking his head, and lifted himself effortlessly off of Kyle. He extended a hand to him to help him up, which Kyle took without question.

"Sorry dude," Stan said, brushing off his best friend.

Kyle shook his head in instant forgiveness.

"When are you finished?" He asked.

"Around five-thirty."

Perfect.

"Wanna go to Shakey's with me? Kenny and Butters will be there."

Stan lit up. With his busy football schedule, he hardly had any time to do anything fun. It had been awhile since he last hung out with his super best friend, or any of his other friends outside football for that matter.

"Sure thing dude."

Kyle smiled, embracing his super best friend with a pat on the shoulder.

"I'll come back here so we could walk together?"

Stan nodded.

"AY! HURRY AND GET BACK NYAH! WE CAN'T PRACTICE WITHOUT A QUARTERBACK!"

Stan shook his head and smiled apologetically to Kyle. Without another word, he ran back to the football field to practice some more. As Stan was hurrying back, Kyle smiled, couldn't help but feeling a rush of warmth. Things haven't changed at all since they entered high school. No matter what, he and Stan would remain the best of friends and nothing—not football nor Sheila—will every change that. He resumed his walk back to the elementary school, not caring anymore that Ike will complain about him being late.

XX

If I offended anyone with the Suu Kyi crack, I'm sorry.


	15. Football II

Mana here. I think this is the only fic I've written this summer that didn't take a week for me to complete upon coming up with it. Proud? You bet I am! (Careful your ego is showing…SHUT UP VOICE) Anyway.

Last Friday I went to my high school's football game because my sister's marching in the band and I wanted to see her perform. But then as I was watching the game, I thought about Stan. And then I saw the most epic save and I was all "yep, I'm writing a fic." The boys are in high school lol...I've come to realize just how much I miss high school. I feel like I didn't absorb enough of it, since I went to three of them and I was _always_ the new kid...never getting into things, simply because I was new. I'm sure if I just stayed in Colorado for my four years, I would have had a more enjoyable time. But ah well, that part's done, on to college now! But yes...I'm gonna go back to elementary school in my next fic. I already have the idea!

Football (II)

AP Bio test. AP US History lecture. AP Composition Socratic seminar. Advanced Precalculus. If that didn't wear out Kyle Broflovski by the end of the day that Friday, then it was probably the fact that he had to walk home in the snow, missing the bus because he needed to talk to his French teacher about a quiz that he didn't score too well on (he missed two questions out of fifteen).

When he finally made it to his house he headed straight for his bedroom, not greeting his mother or his little brother. He flopped down on the bed, still wearing his shoes and messenger bag and fell into a deep, much needed sleep.

--

The digital clock struck nine thirty, and Kyle was woken up by a buzzing feeling in his pocket. Growling bitterly for having his sleep hindered, he picked up his phone and looked at the caller ID.

Butters Stotch.

At this moment he raised an eyebrow; Butters never called him. He was very shy and was always intimidated by the Jew because of his intelligence and his unexpected temper. But all that aside, Kyle figured something must have been important for Butters to call him, so he answered.

"Hello?"

"Dude! Kyle?" It was Kenny's voice.

Kyle furrowed his brow. Of course Kenny would be the one calling him. Kenny didn't have a cell phone and usually pawned off of others to make calls. But still, Kenny? What could he possibly want? He listened through the receiver and couldn't help but notice all the noise in the background. It sounded like a crowded stadium. What the hell was going on?

"What are you doing, Kenny?"

"Where are you?" Kenny ignored Kyle's question.

Kyle rubbed his eyes, stifling a yawn.

"Sleeping."

"Dude! Don't tell me you forgot the football game today!"

Football game? He blinked, feeling stupid. Of course there was a football game today! It was South Park's first football game this season, and he had promised to go and cheer on his super best friend, Stan Marsh.

He looked to the clock and cursed upon noticing the time. The game started at Six-o-clock, so it was probably the fourth quarter already.

"Sorry! Shit why didn't you call me to wake me up?"

"I did! You weren't picking up!"

Kyle let out a frustrated cry.

"What's the score?"

"Uh…thirteen to nine. South Park's losing dude!"

"Oh…" Kyle said quietly. Shit, they're losing? Stan told him that the team was doing really well this year at practice and that they were going to have a good season this year. But regardless if they were winning or not, and regardless that it was fourth quarter, Kyle wanted to be there anyway.

"I'll be there soon Kenny!"

And he hung up. He looked down at himself, gazing at his orange jacket, jeans and green Converse and decided he didn't need to change clothes. But he took off his messenger bag, not knowing why he still had it strapped over his body and rushed downstairs and out the door.

The air was a bit colder as Kyle ran the mile and a half to the stadium at South Park High. Unsurprisingly, the city council members of South Park were able to accumulate funds from a minor scale of graft and corruption and built themselves a high school football stadium. It wasn't a big stadium, but it was big enough for all the fans of two sets of small schools such as South Park High.

When Kyle arrived he heard right away cheering from the other side of the stadium—the opponent's side. Shit! He had come too late; he looked at the scoreboard and it was twenty-seven to thirteen, in favor of the opponent. But despite that, the Jew made it up the bleachers and found Kenny and Butters and waved to them.

"S'not looking good for South Park," Kenny said somberly.

Kyle cursed under his breath. He looked over to the field; the football players were nearing the opponents' side of the field and from the looks of it, someone from the other team whose jersey was numbered "sixty-three" was right about to score another touchdown.

"Five seconds on the clock!" The announcer in the top box boomed out enthusiastically. "Can he make it? Wait…what's this? Number six, quarterback Stan Marsh from South Park just tackled number sixty-three!"

The South Park side of the stadium, including Kyle wholeheartedly, cheered as Stan tackled the potential scorer and pulled him away from goal line. This meant that South Park is now in possession of the ball and could score a touchdown in the next play. But unfortunately the clock had just struck zero, and the score stayed at twenty-seven to thirteen.

"Goddammit!" Kenny slammed his fist against the metal of the bleachers.

The rest of the South Park half of the stadium groaned in disappointment as well.

"You better go find Stan, dude," Kenny said to Kyle, "he's probably really bummed about losing."

Kyle didn't need Kenny to tell him twice to go find Stan. He nodded the blond goodbye and rushed over to the sidelines to find him, dodging the many disappointed South Park football players who looked like they were about to beat up something. Then Kyle grew nervous; if those members of the team were unhappy about the outcome, then surely the quarterback would have been just plain pissed off. Because not only did South Park lose, but his super best friend didn't even show up to cheer him on. He scoured the sidelines in search of the vibrant number six jersey and sure enough, there was Stan, sitting on a bench and sipping Gatorade casually.

"Stan!"

Stan turned around and to Kyle's surprise his expression wasn't that of anger. It wasn't even one of disappointment. It was one of euphoria.

"Hey dude!" Stan smiled and ran over to give his super best friend a man hug.

"Shit Stan I am so sorry! I fell asleep and I didn't hear my phone go off!"

Stan raised an eyebrow.

"What are you talking about, dude?"

"I totally missed the game! Oh…I was going on about it all week and I didn't even come to it. And look…you guys lost."

"No way dude that game was awesome! Did you see that save I did?"

"Hm?"

"Right before that North Park guy was about to score a touch down I tackled him away from the goal post! I thought that was pretty epic of me," he said, grinning.

Kyle nodded.

"That _was_ pretty sweet… but you'd still lose, even if you guys get the ball and make a touchdown. It'll be impossible to get back on top in that short time."

"Oh..I know."

So why'd you stop him?"

"Well, sure we were losing. But if I could prevent the other guys from making one more touch down, well, that's all that matters, right?"

Kyle laughed, feeling a bit better. Because Stan wasn't upset, despite the fact he totally bailed on him. No. He had always admired Stan for his good nature and ability to see the best of a bad situation. Sometimes he wished he'd be like that when faced with problems like school, and Cartman. But that is why Stan is Stan and Kyle is Kyle, and Stan had enough optimism for the both of them.

"Yeah, there ya go!" Stan smiled and patted his best friend on the back.

Kyle smiled at Stan's touch.

"But dude I promise I'll be at the next game, ok? South Park's not gonna lose again!"

Stan ruffled his hair fondly.

"You don't gotta worry about that, dude. I just gotta get better on my game. And I got a pretty sweet plan for the next game!"

Stan went on about his next strategy for the upcoming game next week with much excitement and fire in his eyes, voice and movement, as he and Kyle headed out of the nearly empty stadium and into the cool crisp, Autumn night.

XX

Lol..except my high school won the game.

I made Stan a bit more like me…because I sure wouldn't be upset if my super best friend missed my football game.

Anywayeah…moving out in eight days D8


	16. Pizza

HO SHIT SHE'S ALIVE.

GAH SORRY FOR THE LACK OF UPDATE THESE THREE MONTHS. I HAVE BEEN _TERRIBLY_ BUSY BECAUSE OF COLLEGE AND JUST PLAIN LAZINESS.

But yes. This was _supposed _to be for Hug a Jew Day on November 13, but I was of course working my ass off on midterms and ultimately finals. Needless to say, I have finished the first quarter and I passed all my classes, my lowest grade being a B+ in chemistry. Lemme thank NaoNaoNao for arsing me along to complete this. THIS PROBABLY WOULDN'T BE FINISHED IF IT WASN'T FOR YOU. I LOVE YOU BBY AND MERRY CHRISTMAS.

And please enjoy ^^

Pizza

It was Friday, November 13.

Kyle had checked himself in the mirror about twenty-two times in the past hour, to make sure his hat was straight, his clothes weren't wrinkled and his face was spotless. Tonight wasn't just any other night. It was the night Stan had finally agreed to hang out. As football season came to a close, the team was pressed on toward victory, and no one more than Stan wanted the South Park Cows to secure a place in the Grand Championships. Therefore he mandated practices every night, every week.

But not this week. He had giving the co-captain responsibility of handling the team as he promised Kyle he'd hang out with him, go to dinner somewhere nice and catch up on everything they missed. Tonight was going to be a perfect night.

An hour had passed, and then another, and Stan still hadn't shown up.

_What the hell?_ Kyle growled, looking at his door for the _nth_teen time that night, hoping for a moment that Stan would suddenly come bounding in with a smile on his face, saying "let's go, dude!"

But just as Kyle was about to get up to change out of his clothes, Stan did come bursting through, out of breath with a sweaty smile.

"Whoa dude, I just totally made the greatest save tonight!" He beamed, setting his backpack and duffel bag down beside Kyle's bed as if it was his own bed in his own room.

Kyle however didn't turn to acknowledge Stan. He merely stood in his same position, arms however folded, and expression stiff.

When Stan had noticed Kyle's silence, he turned around to try and read his best friend's expression.

"Dude? Are you alright?" He asked.

Kyle sniffed out a "hmph!" and turned the other cheek. Then Stan felt his stomach turn inside out and do a back flip.

"Um…" He began, only to be cut off by the steamed Jew.

"You're late again, Stan," He said coldly.

Stan paled.

"Well dude, I told you I had football practice—"

"Which you also said you were supposed to cancel! For Christ's sake Stan! Why is it you _always_ blow me off whenever we finally get the chance to hang out?"

"I didn't know that football was gonna cut in to 8:30 dude! Cartman kept fucking us up and we had to start over!"

Kyle's expression softened a little upon hearing of Cartman.

"Your guys's fault for letting him on the team!"

"How was the coach supposed to know that Cartman's a bigoted, intolerant, uncaring asshole? He just wanted him because he's a good defense!"

Kyle sighed.

"Well, I guess…"

Stan bit his lip, looking up into Kyle's eyes.

"Sorry, dude. I swear I'll stop blowing you off."

And as if watching a puppy pout in shame when he knew he did something wrong, Kyle didn't have the heart to shoot anything back.

"It's cool. But dude, are there any places that are still open? It's kinda late."

Stan pulled his cell from the pocket of his shorts and found that it was nearing nine-o-clock.

"Shakey's is always open. I know you wanted to go downtown, but you know how your mom gets when you go out late on a school night, hm?"

Good old Shakey's Pizza was the closest thing to commercial culture in South Park, and although it's been around for over ten years, it never got old. The pizza was always good, even if it was the same pepperoni, Hawaiian, cheese and combo from years back.

Right before they had taken a seat at a booth, Kenny had come through the door, expression broken but still keeping a positive look as he became aware of the boys' presence.

"Sup, dudes," Kenny smiled, taking a seat next to Kyle with a tired sigh.

"You ok, Ken?" Kyle asked with genuine concern for his second best friend.

"Eh, you know. The usual."

"Family?"

"Yep."

Kenny leaned over on Kyle, with a dramatic sigh.

"Can I sleep over tonight?"

Kyle nodded quickly, always willing to lend a hand to best friend number two.

"You're always welcome at my place, dude."

"Thank you so much…I feel bad for imposing like this all the time. I know it's you guys's special night, but I really need this."

"Eeh, it's fine," Stan said, "I already screwed up the night anyway by being late in picking up Kyle."

Kyle looked at him with a bit of hurt; why did he have to say that? Sure, Kyle felt the night was ruined already, but why did it make him cringe when Stan said it like that? Was it guilt? After all, he was the one who brought out his anger when Stan came into his room two hours after he was supposed to be there.

_I really should just keep my feelings to myself sometimes…_

But his thoughts were interrupted when Kenny suddenly threw his arms around his neck and began to kiss his face.

"Oh poor baby!" He cooed, "did your boyfriend stand you up?"

Kyle stifled a laugh.

"Ken! What the hell?" He grinned, pushing him off.

"And you should be ashamed of yourself!" The blonde darted at Stan, arms still around Kyle, "how dare you! You know how punctual ladies are! If you tell them you're going to pick them up at six, then you pick them up at six no questions asked!"

At this point both boys were laughing uncontrollably, all tension suddenly gone. Leave it to Kenny to serve as an air freshener, cleaning up dirty auras and making everything pleasant once more.

"Alright, alright, just kidding," Kenny laughed, getting off of Kyle and sitting up straight, face suddenly growing serious, "now, down to business. I came here initially in hopes of obtaining a pizza to satisfy my nightly hunger, and to my great luck I found you boys, laden with cash while I have none. I am hoping that one of you two could act as a benefactor in providing me a plentiful dinner so that I may go to sleep without an empty stomach. Now, in order for this to—"

"Ok, ok!" Kyle interrupted, taking out his wallet, "what'll it be?"

"Hawaiian," Kenny said at once.

Without another word, Kyle stood up, went over to the front to order a large Hawaiian that could supply all of them.

"Damn, Stan," Kenny chuckled, "you pick him up late and then you make him pay for the food?"

"Shit…didn't think about that," he mumbled, eyes fixed on Kyle.

Kenny just laughed.

"You suck, dude!" He said, kicking his ankle from underneath the table.

Stan didn't say anything else.

In five minutes time, the Jew returned to the booth, placing the pizza in the center of the table. At once, Kenny took three slices, sprinkling atop it cheese from the shaker on the side of the table.

"Oh my God, this is gonna be so awesome," Kenny grinned, taking a sip of the complimentary water, "the salty, flavorful taste of ham combining with the contrasting sweetness of the pineapple…"

"Kenny, most people just _eat_ the food," Kyle laughed, taking a slice for himself.

Stan perked up. Ham, did he say? Ham is from pigs, and pigs aren't kosher, right? Maybe this super best friends' night out wouldn't be completely ruined after all.

"Dude wait!" Stan shot at Kyle just as he was about to take a bite of his slice.

"What?"

"Ham isn't kosher, is it?"

Kyle blinked, slowly putting his pizza down.

"No…I guess it's not." He looked up at Stan with a small, genuine smile. "Thanks, dude."

"Silly boy," Kenny mocked a drawl and took Kyle's slice off his plate, putting it on his own.

"Hey! I didn't even think about that! Crap…now I gotta buy me another pizza…"

But just as he was about to get up, Stan had already sprung forth and dashed to the register.

"One large veggie supreme please?"

Kenny cheered from where he was sitting, giving Kyle another hug.

"Woo hoo! I get two pizzas! This is the best fucking dinner ever!"

Kyle chuckled warmly, not because of Kenny, but because of the look Stan had been giving him as he was waiting for the pizza. He had done that for him?

"Thanks dude," he said as Stan brought the pizza over to the table, setting it beside the almost-finished one.

"It's fine…just enjoy."

And with that he took three slices and put them on his plate, having not touched a bit of the Hawaiian yet and gave Kyle the plate, taking his which had already traces of ham and bringing it to his own place.

Kyle flushed slightly, letting both Stan and Kenny take three slices each before beginning to eat, eyes never once leaving Stan.

XX

FINARRY IT'S FINISHED. And it's Christmas! Yay! I've got Simbong Gabi songs stuck in my head rather than Jewish songs…but it's fine. JEWS WERE HUGGED IN THIS FIC SO THAT IS ALL THAT MATTERS.

And congratulations Gregory and Damiana. May you have many years of happiness.


End file.
